Chuck vs the Bright Side of Life
by Notorious JMG
Summary: A series of connected one-shots that detail the evolution of Chuck and Sarah's relationship from cover to friends to much more. Chapters 1-3 occur prior to "The Star Spangled Intersect", all others occur afterwards.
1. Chuck vs Valentine's Day

Monday morning. Pretty bright, but not so early. It was just before 9:00 AM when the black Porsche pulled up in front of the Buy More.

"Don't forget to swagger," Sarah said jokingly.

Chuck gave her a sideways look. "And why would I be doing that?"

She looked over at him with an _are you kidding me_ look. "You left here in my car last night. You are returning here in my car this morning. What exactly do you think your co-workers are going to think?"

Realization dawned on Chuck's face. "Riiight," he said slowly. "Sorry, I just haven't had my coffee yet."

"God help us if you ever have a flash before you have your coffee," Sarah grumbled.

"Hey, at least I never murdered an alarm clock simply because it woke me up," Chuck shot back.

Sarah's expression changed to half-amused, half-you-are-going-to-be-in-serious-trouble-if-you-don't-get-out-of-my-car-right-now. Chuck smiled. "Well, I better keep up appearances."

He leaned over, but didn't try to kiss her. He just gave her a sort of half hug, wrapping his left arm around her back. She hugged back, and closed her eyes, just briefly, imagining what it would feel like if it lasted longer than –

"Bye!"

The passenger door of the Porsche slammed shut. She watched his receding figure head toward the front door of the Buy More, and then she pulled away. Time for another day at Wienerlicious, oh joy, oh happiness.

* * *

Chuck strode up to the Nerd Herd desk at 9:01. "Morning, bitches," he said airily.

Lester and Jeff looked up at him. "Bitches?" Lester asked, an offended note in his voice. "Chuck, we all agreed on this. We're your Stable of Hos, not your Bitches."

"All right, all right, my apologies," Chuck replied, holding his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Morning, HOS."

"Much better," Lester said with a smirk.

"You sure are in a good mood this morning, Chuck," Jeff rumbled.

"And you sure… look… hung over? Jeff, seriously. Big Mike's not going to put up with this forever. Have you considered going to meetings?"

Jeff ignored him. "Why are you in such a good mood, anyway?"

"Looks to me like he got laid," Anna remarked from behind Chuck. He whirled around.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, your good mood, the way you came swaggering in here… the fact that you left here in Sarah's Porsche last night and came back in the same car this morning…"

Chuck just stared at her. "Are you stalking me?"

"No, Chuck," Anna sighed. She paused. "Morgan is, and he found it necessary to share all this with me."

Chuck rolled his eyes. He picked up the PA microphone. "Morgan Grimes to the Nerd Herd desk, please. Morgan Grimes."

"So, how about it, Chuck?" Lester pestered him. "Did you?'

"Dude."

"Come on, Chuck," Jeff said. "We're pathetic computer geeks. We have to live vicariously through somebody, and given that you're banging the hottest woman any of us have ever met…"

"Jeff!" Chuck snapped. "First of all, I don't ever want to hear you say that again."

Jeff nodded. "Sure, Chuck, alright."

"Secondly…" Chuck paused. _What the hell_, he thought. "A gentleman does not kiss and tell."

Jeff and Lester's faces lit up. "AW YEAH," Lester said. "That's our boy!"

Chuck shook his head as Morgan walked up to the desk. "You needed to see me, Chuck?"

"Morgan, my boy," Chuck said. "Anna tells me you're stalking me."

Morgan immediately got defensive. "It's for your own good, Chuck. I've seen how Sarah can stab you through the heart…"

Chuck glared daggers at him. "I'm sorry, Morgan, but do you remember, when she and I broke up back in November, who it was that did the breaking up with whom?"

Morgan nodded. "Right, true."

"And when we got back together, who it was that initiated that?"

"Yeah…"

"Morgan, seriously. I can handle myself. You want to stalk me, let's make sure we're at least on the battlefield or something?"

"Unreal Tournament?"

"2:00 PM, Home Theatre Lounge."

Morgan pumped his fist. "Victory shall be mine!"

* * *

At lunchtime, Chuck left the Buy More and headed across the parking lot to the Wienerlicious. It was practically empty, as usual. Chuck had never been sure how they stayed in business – after all, there was rarely anybody in there, and though he didn't have the heart to tell her, Sarah was terrible at this job.

Of course, when Casey had told him that Wienerlicious was strictly a CIA front operation, and that it would stay in business as long as the government wanted to, many things became clear. That was why it didn't surprise Chuck when, after the Los Angeles County Health Department nailed Wienerlicious for six critical violations, an automated frying system appeared in the kitchen overnight, and Sarah's job requirements were cut practically in half.

Sarah smiled when Chuck came in the door. He loved seeing her smile. What he didn't know was that she really couldn't have kept herself from smiling if she'd wanted to – she had essentially come to think of him as the best part of her life.

"Guter nachmittag, und willkommen zu Wienerlicious," Sarah said to him.

"Please, save it for somebody who cares," Chuck replied with a grin.

And suddenly, without warning, a barrage of ketchup packets was flying through the air toward him. Eyes going wide, Chuck dove behind a table. He grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and waved it in the air, his white flag of surrender.

"You want to try that again?" Sarah called out.

Chuck stood up tentatively. Sarah stared at him with a massive degree of intensity.

"Guter nachmittag. Willkommen zu Wienerlicious!"

"Danke, mein Fraulein," Chuck replied. "Mag ich einen gebratenen cholesterinstock haben?

Sarah gave him a puzzled look. "You want a fried cholesterol stick?"

"Do, please, tell me a better way to describe the delectable trans-fat bombs this place cranks out," Chuck answered.

"Uh-uh, we don't use trans fats!"

"Fine. Can I just have a corndog before I start thinking too much about what goes into them?"

Sarah pushed a button on the automated fryer – or, as Morgan termed it, the "Superfry Death Machine" – and a moment later, a corndog, shining in grease, slid out the end in a small cardboard tray.

"Genießen sie, mein Herr, und danke für das wählen von Wienerlicious," Sarah said, handing him the tray.

Chuck shook his head as he slathered the corndog in ketchup. "Do you really have to say that to every single customer?"

Sarah grabbed his arm and explained as she guided him outside. "If I don't, then Scooter gets all butt-hurt and reports me to the regional manager. The regional manager, in turn, reports to Director Graham. So yes, I have to say it, otherwise Graham gets on me about not maintaining my cover, and that's always such a joyous conversation."

Chuck just nodded, not saying anything as he sat down. It was always best to just let Sarah talk if she was venting.

She sighed. "So, how's your day been?"

"Well, you were right about what my co-workers would think about me showing up in your car," he said. "Or, at any rate, what Morgan thought and then shared with the Nerd Herd. In fact, to put it in Jeff's words, I'm apparently 'banging the hottest woman any of them have ever met'."

Sarah's eyes went wide, and she spat a mouthful of Diet Coke out into the parking lot. "What?!" she gasped, alternating between coughing and laughing.

Chuck just smiled and shook his head. "Thus are the people I work with."

He gave her a moment to calm down, and then asked, "So, do you have any plans for Thursday night?"

She looked across the table at him. "Chuck," she said, "despite indicators to the contrary, I have less of a life than you do. I'm not scheduled to work Thursday night, and I haven't heard about anything I have to do mission-wise… so, no. Why? Did you want to do something Thursday?"

"Well," Chuck replied. "Given that it is Valentine's Day, we might want to do something, if just for the benefit of our cover."

Sarah's eyes widened again. "It's already Valentine's Day?!"

"Well, it does follow that February 14th – commonly known as 'Valentine's Day', or 'Singles' Awareness Day' to the lonely and bitter crowd – comes three days after February 11th, which happens to be today."

"Crap," Sarah breathed. She took a moment to think. "Yes. I would love to do something with you on Valentine's Day."

She grabbed his hands. "However. If you're taking me out on Valentine's Day, I expect roses and chocolates."

"But… but those are expensive!" Chuck protested.

Sarah smiled, just a touch of evil on her face, as she stood up and headed back into the Wienerlicious. "I don't care!"

Chuck was almost halfway across the parking lot when he heard her yelling his name from the door of the Wienerlicious. "CHUCK!"

He turned around. "WHAT?!" he yelled back.

"I LIKE GODIVA!"

Chuck could almost feel his wallet cringe. "Jesus Christ."

* * *

On Thursday night, Chuck pulled up in front of Sarah's building just before 6:00 PM. He got out of the Herder, grabbing the dozen long-stem roses ($48.00; they would've been more if Devin hadn't known somebody) and the box of Godiva chocolates ($32.00) that he had stopped and picked up at the Godiva store in downtown L.A.

When she opened her door, a smile formed on her face as she saw the roses and the box in his hands. "You really got me chocolates – Godiva chocolates! – and roses."

"Yes, I certainly did," he replied. The smile on her face was one of those smiles that made him feel truly warm and fuzzy inside.

Sarah took the roses, and put them in a vase she had set up by the door. "You really were expecting me to bring them, weren't you?" Chuck asked.

"That's the thing about you, Chuck," Sarah replied, taking the box of chocolates to the refrigerator. "You're a genius at little things like this. You just don't disappoint."

Chuck turned bright red, right to the roots of his hair. "Well, thank you," he said. "I would… I'd never want to disappoint you."

She walked over to him, stopped right in front of him, and looked up into his eyes. "I know," she said quietly.

Sarah wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled herself to him. "Thank you," she whispered, resting her head on his chest.

"You're welcome," Chuck said, hugging her back.

They just stood there for a moment like that, before Sarah finally pulled away. "So, what's the plan for tonight? Dinner and a movie?"

"No!" Chuck protested. "That's old and clichéd! No, we're going to do a movie and dinner, in that order!"

Sarah laughed in disbelief. "You are such a gigantic nerd sometimes!"

"And proud of it," Chuck shot right back. "No, I thought we'd go see a movie first, and then Ellie and Awesome have invited us to join them for a late dinner at the apartment."

Sarah's forehead wrinkled. "They're okay with us joining them for dinner on Valentine's Day?"

"Ellie was almost overly enthusiastic," Chuck said. "And C.A. – well, he thinks everything is awesome."

As they drove away down the street, Sarah asked, "So, where are we going? What are we going to see?"

"Well, I thought we'd head over to the Arc Light," Chuck said. "There's a movie that just came out today called _Definitely, Maybe_. It looks pretty funny."

"I think I saw a commercial for that," Sarah mused, searching her memory. "That's the one with the guy who played Van Wilder in it, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Ryan Reynolds," Chuck replied. "But he's been in some other stuff since then."

"I know… it's just, _Van Wilder_'s the last movie I saw in a theatre while I was still a civilian."

She got very quiet then. Chuck didn't say anything. It remained like that the rest of the way to the theatre.

Sarah enjoyed the movie, though. Or at least, it seemed to Chuck that she did. She had a smile on her face most of the way through, and laughed quite a few times. He even heard her muttering, "Leave the book, you jackass," when Ryan Reynolds' character was debating whether or not to leave a copy of _Jane Eyre_ with Isla Fisher's character.

"So, did you like it?" Chuck asked afterwards.

"Yeah, it was pretty good," Sarah replied. "I have to ask, though, would you tell a story like that to your ten year-old daughter?"

Chuck laughed. "That'd be a good one. 'Let me tell you the story of Jill, Lou, and Sarah – the slut, the sandwich maker, and the spy!'"

For some reason, Sarah found that hilariously funny. However, she wasn't laughing too hard to not notice when Chuck slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer to him.

She leaned her head over, resting it against his chest as they walked. _Either he's getting better at the cover part of things_, she thought, _or this is really going somewhere my superiors wouldn't approve of_.

A rather large part of her hoped it was the latter.


	2. Chuck vs Pacific Park

"Repeat after me: this is just a mission."

Sarah looked at herself in the mirror, and repeated, "This is just a mission."

"You will not fraternize with the asset," her reflection said.

"I will not fraternize with the asset."

She stood looking at herself in the mirror for a moment. Jeans, inconspicuous green earrings, the blue sweater that Chuck liked –

"STOP IT," her reflection said. "This is just a mission."

Sarah breathed deeply. "This is just a mis – oh, who am I kidding. I'm going to have fun, and I'm going to fraternize with the asset. Screw the rules."

The knock on her door almost made her jump out of her skin. She crossed the room quickly, and with her hand on the butt of her gun, she opened the door.

Just Chuck.

And instantly, her guard dropped, a smile breaking out on her face. "Hi," she said.

"Hi to you, too," he replied. "So, tell me again, why exactly are we going to the place where I almost got sent to kingdom come by some insane teenager?"

"There's been some suspicious activity down by the pier," Sarah explained. "DEA thinks that a Colombian cartel is smuggling cocaine in there, and so NSA wants you to go down and see if you flash on anything."

"Accompanied by a CIA agent," Chuck finished. "So it'll be interagency fun-day at Pacific Park."

Sarah tried to suppress a laugh and failed. "That sounds about right."

"Well then. Let's go to Santa Monica."

* * *

Even though it was late on a Wednesday afternoon, Sarah and Chuck had agreed that trying to find parking anywhere near the beach would likely be a nightmare. So, here they were, on the 720 Rapid bus, Wilshire Boulevard to the beach. Sarah didn't look comfortable.

"Are you okay?" Chuck asked her.

"I've never been totally comfortable with buses," she replied. "There's just something… something ab-"

Something had distracted Sarah. She looked past Chuck, to a teenager sitting a little ways down from them, toward the back of the bus.

She stood up and walked toward him, as he withdrew something from his backpack – a large yellow paint marker. He took off the cap, and turned to mark the window of the bus –

Sarah grabbed his arm with her left hand and slammed it down on the back of the seat. The paint marker fell to the floor.

"What the fuck, bitch!" he exclaimed, shooting up to his feet – and finding himself just as quickly back in his seat, Sarah's right hand pushing him back down as if he weren't even there.

"I know over a hundred ways to kill you," she said softly. "Crime does not pay. Get off this bus at the next stop."

The teenager looked at her, his eyes full of fear and loathing. He didn't say anything, just reached up and pulled the stop cord.

When the bus stopped outside of the Veterans' Hospital, he got off the bus. His backward glance at Sarah was a look of pure hatred.

"I think you may have made yourself an enemy there," Chuck remarked.

"Like I said, I know over a hundred ways to kill him. I'm not too concerned."

Chuck was silent for about a mile. Then, he muttered, "Number one: gun."

Sarah turned and looked at him. "What?"

"Number two: knife."

She smiled and smacked him playfully in the arm. "Knock it off."

"Number three: slapped to death."

"Fine, be that way," she sniffed, and pretended to pout.

"Number four: silent treatment."

She did her best not to start giggling, but a little tiny one escaped from between her lips.

"Number five: not breathing."

The giggles started escaping with more regularity, so she decided it was time for a little revenge. She poked him in the side.

Chuck almost jumped out of his seat. Giving Sarah a mock-baleful look, he sat back down. "Number six: tickling."

Sarah was all out of cards to play, but fortunately, at that moment, the bus's automatic announcement system said, "Approaching: Colorado and Ocean. Santa Monica Pier."

As they were getting off the bus, Chuck went down ahead of Sarah. However, even though she was behind him, she was still able to hear him say, "Number seven: shoved out of a bus."

As soon as he was on the sidewalk, she said, "Alright, that's it, mister!" and jumped on his back.

Reflexively, he reached down and grabbed her legs under the knees to keep her from falling. She locked her arms around his chest. As he staggered forward, he shouted out, "Number eight: attacked from behind!"

Sarah stayed on his back as he crossed Ocean Avenue. "Number nine," he said. "Hit and run!"

"Don't you dare!" she shrieked.

As soon as Chuck had reached the grassy area that marked the beginning of Pacific Park on the other side of the street, she jumped off his back and tackled him.

"Oooff," he said, his breath expelling involuntarily as Sarah knocked him to the ground. He hit the deck, the wind knocked out of him, and just lay there for a moment. When he didn't move, Sarah got a little concerned. She rolled him over. "Chuck, are you okay?"

He just nodded and was still for another moment. Then, he croaked:

"Number ten: bum-rushed by lunatic spy."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed, still on her knees. "I am not a luna-WHOA!"

Chuck moved way quicker than she thought he'd be able to, given his breathless condition. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he flipped her over, pinning her back against the ground. She stared up at him as he smiled down at her.

"Number eleven: deceived by nerdy civilian."

Sarah felt her face grow hot as she took stock of the position she was in. She reached up to Chuck's chest, and it took all her self-control to push him away rather than grabbing his lapels and pulling him down to her.

Chuck stood up and brushed grass off his shirt front. He reached down to help Sarah up –

And suddenly found himself being thrown to the ground again, landing on his back. Moving like a cat, Sarah landed on top of him, straddling his chest.

"Numbers twelve through one hundred," she whispered, an evil smile on her face. "Underestimated lunatic spy."

"My mistake," Chuck whispered back. His hands moved upward, his right hand landing on her waist. His left hand slipped under the back of her shirt, lightly rubbing against the small of her back. A little moan involuntarily slipped out –

"Oh for Christ's sake!" snapped the homeless man forty feet to the north of them.

Their heads whipped around. "Casey?!" Chuck yelled in surprise.

"Yes!" the vagrant replied. "Good Lord, I don't give a rat's ass about my cover, I can't stand watching the two of you go at it like idiot junior high students!"

Sarah and Chuck both turned bright red as she scrambled off of him and they stood to their feet. "Seriously!" Casey yelled, discarding most of his costume as he stalked toward them, stripping down to just a t-shirt and jeans. "You two are supposed to be here keeping an eye out, not… whatever the hell you were doing!"

"He started it," Sarah muttered, doing her best not to laugh as she pointed at Chuck and looked at the ground.

"Oh, REAL mature, Walker," Casey growled. "Now, seriously, are the two of you going to do your job?"

"Yes," Chuck replied.

"Good," Casey said. "Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I'm going to go try to find some brain bleach and forget about what I just saw."

He started to walk away, but then turned back. "Also, I will be shadowing you on the pier, just in case you need back-up, so try to keep from doing anything else that'll make me nauseous."

Casey stalked off. Sarah and Chuck just stood, looking after him, but as soon as he was out of earshot, Sarah cracked up.

"I don't want to call him a loser, but…"

"Come on, Sarah, he's just doing his job!" Chuck replied sarcastically.

She laughed, and looped her right arm through his left. "Come on, Chuck, let's go catch bad guys!"

"Sounds like a plan," he responded.

They walked up and down the pier for nearly an hour. Nothing. Chuck didn't flash on anything, and while they saw plenty of suspicious goings-on, it was nothing they were looking for.

Finally, Sarah said, "I am just about starving. Dinner?"

"Agreed," Chuck replied.

They made their way back to the food court area by the roller coaster. Sarah walked up toward the Taco Bell window, and her eyes just about bugged out of her head.

"Seven bucks for three tacos?!" she said in disbelief. "Ridiculous!"

"Well," Chuck answered, "the other option is we leave the pier and possibly miss whoever it is we're looking for."

"That's a good point," she allowed. "Alright, well, it'll be expensed anyway; might as well."

Fourteen dollars and fifteen minutes later, they were both feeling a bit less peckish. Chuck suggested that they should go for a ride on the roller coaster to kill time.

"I don't know about that, Chuck," Sarah hesitated.

"Oh, come on, I love this roller coaster!" Chuck exclaimed. "It's the best one in Los Angeles!"

"Chuck, seriously…"

"Sarah." Chuck looked her in the eye. "You can't say you've lived in Los Angeles until you've ridden the West Coaster."

Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine, let's go."

Twenty minutes later, they had stood in line, and then ridden the coaster. Chuck was pumped – as he always was after riding it – but Sarah was a different story. The motion of the roller coaster was not reacting with the Taco Bell she had introduced to her stomach half an hour earlier.

"I am definitely not feeling well," she groaned, as they walked back out onto the pier.

"Alright," Chuck said. "Let's go stand over by the rail. The fresh air coming off the ocean will help."

Sarah stood there for a moment, breathing deeply.

"Hey, bitch!"

Chuck and Sarah spun around to see the teenager from the bus, with two of his punkass friends. "A hundred ways to kill me, huh? Don't look like you could do much right now!"

He reached to his belt, and a knife flashed. "I'm gonna teach you to mess with me!"

The knife flashed upward – and Sarah's stomach heaved upward.

The teenager stood stock still, practically catatonic, as he suddenly found himself covered in regurgitated tacos and Mountain Dew.

"Aw, that's gross," one of his compatriots said.

"That's disgusting," moaned the other.

Then, without warning, they were dragged backward a few feet, and their heads were cracked together. "Little shits," John Casey spat, dropping them to the deck.

He stepped up and looked around the front of the vomit-covered thug. He was still standing there, a look of shock on his face.

"Good work, Walker," he smirked, grabbing the third punk by the scruff of his neck. He whistled, and two Santa Monica police officers appeared out of the shadows to take them away.

Chuck caught a glimpse of the face of one of the Santa Monica PD officers – and the Intersect went into overdrive. He saw a flash of the officer, then a flash of the entire SMPD narcotics unit, then of several of the officers on a Colombian flagged boat, a stack of packages of cocaine, and a bowl of tiramisu.

"Casey!" he hissed as the police officers dragged the teenagers away. "Casey!"

"What is it, Bartowski?!"

Making sure the police officers were out of earshot, Chuck whispered, "I flashed on one of the police officers. I think their whole narcotics unit is involved!"

"Hell," Casey breathed. "Alright, I'll call this in. I don't want the two of you involved any more – it's too dangerous for you, and Walker's clearly in no condition right now.

"Take her home, get her cleaned up. I'll keep you in the loop on what's going on."

Casey started to walk away, then turned back to Chuck. "How'd you two get here?" he asked. "I didn't track your car or Walker's coming down."

"We took the bus."

"Great," Casey said. "Well, you can't take her back on the bus…"

He sighed. "Take my car."

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "You sure about that?"

"Just don't blow it up this time, Bartowski!"

By the time Chuck got Sarah back to her building, she was almost asleep. He got her upstairs and made sure she brushed her teeth, so that her mouth wouldn't taste like death in the morning.

"Sorry I ruined the evening," she murmured as Chuck led her back to her bed.

"Don't worry about it," he said with a little smile. He hugged her close, and after a brief moment's thought, kissed her lightly on top of her head. She made a little contented noise, and then sat down on her bed.

"Good night, Sarah," Chuck said. "Get some sleep."

"Good night, Chuck."


	3. Chuck vs the Green Album

_To my readers from the Television Without Pity "Chuck Fanfiction" forum - I put a little shout-out to some of you guys in here. See if you can pick up on it!_

* * *

Sarah's dreams were not pleasant. 

In her restless mind, she was on a mission. For some reason, Chuck was out of the car. Again.

It was a very bad thing that Chuck was out of the car, because there were men with large guns, and they were firing them in their general direction.

"Chuck!" she yelled over the gunfire. "I'm going to distract them. As soon as they take their attention off you, I want you to run!"

"No way, Sarah! I'm not leaving you alone!"

"CHUCK! I can handle this!"

She pulled a flash-bang grenade off her belt – _since when do I carry flash-bangs?_ She pulled the pin, and threw it, waiting for the pop.

As soon as it went off, she was shouting for Chuck to get out of there. "Go, Chuck, go!" she yelled.

And Chuck went – in the wrong direction, right into the hail of bullets.

"NOOOOO!" she screamed –

And sat bolt upright.

The sun was streaming in, she could smell something cooking – and she was on a couch, covered with a UCLA blanket. Where the hell was she?

That question was answered quickly enough when Ellie Bartowski came running in to the room. "Sarah?" she said. "I heard you scream just now… are you all right?"

She was on the couch in the Bartowskis' living room. She must have fallen asleep here last night while they were watching _Sarah Connor Chronicles_ – and if she'd managed to fall asleep during that show, she must have been exhausted.

"Yeah, just a bad dream," Sarah replied. "Uh, what time is it?"

"It's just after 8:00. Chuck left for work about an hour ago. He said you had today off?"

Sarah nodded wearily, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Yeah."

"Okay," Ellie replied. "Well, if you want breakfast, there's coffee made, and pancakes in the kitchen… feel free to help yourself."

* * *

"CHUCK!" 

Chuck's head whipped around to see Morgan running toward him full tilt.

"Morgan?"

"Chuck, you gotta help me!"

"Morgan, what is going on?"

Morgan said nothing, just grabbed Chuck's arm and dragged him over toward the portable audio section. "Right over there!"

Chuck looked. "I see a customer who appears to be pissed, probably because he isn't being helped with his potentially high-priced iPod purchase," he said, giving Morgan a _what-the-hell-is-your-problem_ glance.

"Chuck, he's a little person!" Morgan whined. "And he's angry!"

"Okay, so he's like four feet tall," Chuck replied. "But he's still looking at an eighty gig video iPod. Why aren't you trying to make the sale?"

"Goddammit, what the hell are the two of you doing?" a voice boomed from behind them. The two whipped around as Big Mike strode up behind them.

Then he saw. "Whoa," he said, his voice getting much quieter. "That is a very angry midget right there."

Chuck's eyes widened. "Big Mike, you know it's politically incorrect to call them mid-"

His train of thought was interrupted as his upper arm was grabbed by what felt like a vice grips and he was dragged across the store to the home theatre lounge.

"What the hell, Casey?!"

"Walker stayed in your apartment last night. Nothing was said about that beforehand."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "She fell asleep while we were watching TV, Casey," he replied. "You know, she was tired, she fell asleep on the couch. We were on a 'date', you know, for that thing you're always on us to maintain, our cover?"

"And so you thought it was okay for her to just spend the night sleeping on your couch?!"

"Yeah, I thought it would be a bad idea for her to wake up and drive home, tired as she was, because I have a little bit of these things known as 'common sense' and 'intelligence'."

"Yeah, you're sharp as a marble, Bartowski."

With one last glare, Casey stalked off, leaving Chuck to stare after him in disbelief.

"I don't even know why I bother sometimes."

* * *

When Chuck got home at 4:30, the first thing he noticed was that Sarah's car was still parked out front. "That's… odd…" he mused to himself. 

As he opened the door of the apartment, he heard the laughter of two women – Ellie and Sarah. "Hello?" he called out as he entered.

"We're in the kitchen, Chuck!" Ellie responded.

He walked into the kitchen – and, oh God, they were looking at a photo album. Oh God, worse yet, it was the GREEN photo album.

Chuck froze in the doorway to the kitchen. "Ellie…" he croaked.

"Yes, Chuck?" she said, looking up at him and smiling sweetly.

"I hate you so much sometimes."

She got up from the table, and walked over to Chuck. She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Oh, but Chuck, if it weren't for your big sister, who would show your girlfriend the pictures of little naked two-year-old Chuck sitting on a gigantic stuffed dog?"

Chuck just sort of growled at her. Ellie laughed and went into the living room.

Chuck sat down at the kitchen table across from Sarah. "So," he began.

She looked up from the photo album, a small smirk on her lips.

"Is this what my taxpayer dollars are paying for?" Chuck cracked. "Because, if so, I want a bigger refund next year."

Sarah didn't say anything, just slightly stuck her tongue out at him.

"Real mature, Sarah, real mature."

"And YOU are starting to sound like John Casey," she shot back.

Chuck gasped in mock horror. "Evil woman! How dare you! Get out of my house!"

Sarah stood up and walked behind Chuck. "I don't think I have to," she replied. "This is your sister's apartment, and she invited me."

She had placed her right hand on his right shoulder, found a rather vicious knot from his home theatre lounge encounter with Casey, and had begun to rub it.

Chuck felt the pressure on his shoulder, and it actually felt really good, if a little painful.

"Ooookay," he sighed. "You don't have to leave."

Sarah smiled triumphantly. "That's right," she said. "Don't ever argue with me, because you will lose every time."

Chuck cocked his head slightly. "Now, wait a second. I don't think that's necessarily true."

Sarah stopped rubbing his shoulders. "Yes, Chuck, yes it is."

He turned his head to the right to try to face her. "No, I really think you're wrong."

That was quite enough of that. She brought her face down level with his. "Chuck. I. Will. Always. Win."

It was then that she realized just how close she'd gotten to his face. She was – maybe – two inches away from him. The tips of their noses were practically touching. _It would be no effort at all to cause, say, accidental contact between our lips_, she thought to herself as she grew almost hypnotized by the seemingly bottomless pools of his brown eyes.

"Are you so sure about that?" he said softly, snapping her out of her reverie. She backed away a little as he said, "Because I think I just won."

She stood up slowly and backed away a little bit. She took a deep breath.

Chuck had never seen such a confused look on Sarah Walker's face as he did just then. "Sarah?" he asked. "Are you still there?"

Sarah let out her breath and snapped back to the present. "Yeah," she breathed.

Deciding that action would be better than nothing, she grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out of his chair. "Come on," she said. "Let's go somewhere!"

"It's Tuesday afternoon," Chuck responded. "What did you have in mind?"

"No idea!"

* * *

Sarah's idea of going somewhere had apparently been to get on the Red Line and ride it to the end of the line. Now, they were wandering around in North Hollywood. 

"I never knew the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences was right here," Sarah said as they headed south on Lankershim. "Aren't they the ones that do the Emmys?"

"Indeed they are," Chuck said. "Although I'm glad _The Sopranos_ is done, they can't hog the awards any- oooh, Starbucks!"

"What?"

Chuck was already several steps ahead of Sarah. "Are you kidding me?" she asked, as she jogged briefly to catch up. "You're going to go pay five bucks for some fat-filled, sugar-filled, calorie-filled coffee drink?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. "Says the government employee who drives a fifteen-miles-to-the-gallon Porsche Boxster," he shot back.

Sarah held up her hands. "Okay, I deserved that one."

"Hah!" Chuck shot back. "I win again!"

Sarah just smiled and didn't say anything, because she had realized that Chuck was about to experience a certain amount of heartbreak.

When the light at Magnolia turned green, Chuck dashed across the street, walked up to the door of the Starbucks – and stopped dead in his tracks.

Sarah just smiled and shook her head as Chuck read the sign on the door, a note of horror in his voice.

"On Tuesday, February 26th, 2008, all Starbucks stores will be closed for training purposes from 5:30 PM until 8:30 PM. We apologize for the inconvenience, and hope that you will return to our store soon."

He turned around and looked at Sarah. "This is total bullshit."

She just smiled and didn't say anything. "Seriously!" he began to rant. "If Buy More did this, there would be chaos! Mass panic! Rioting in the streets!"

"Perhaps that would be the case in Second Life cities," Sarah said, a slightly mocking tone in her voice. "But I think normal life would go on."

Chuck didn't seem to hear her, though, as his eyes appeared to have glazed over. He just stood there for a moment, staring across the street at the Academy building – and then, snapped back to reality.

"Jorge Verdugo," he whispered.

"What?" Sarah asked. "Did you have a flash?"

"Jorge Verdugo, code name El Tigre," he repeated. "Venezuelan terrorist-for-hire. He's done jobs for Al Qaeda, FARC, even the Ku Klux Klan – and he's walking westbound on Magnolia Boulevard right now."

Sarah's head whipped around – just in time to catch Verdugo getting into a taxi on the opposite corner of Magnolia and Lankershim. "Dammit," she hissed.

Pulling out her cell phone, she speed-dialed Director Graham. "Graham, line secure," she heard after a moment of rings, pops, and hisses.

"This is Walker, line secure," she replied. "The Intersect has posidented Jorge Verdugo, Venezuelan terrorist, in North Hollywood."

Graham didn't say anything for a moment. She heard the tapping of a keyboard, and then, "Alright, we've got intelligence that says he's in Los Angeles for a meet with members of Mara Salvatrucha. He's supposed to meet with them on Friday night at a club called the Viper Room. We need you and the Intersect there to see if he flashes on any high-profile members of MS-13."

"Copy that," Sarah replied, and disconnected.

"Alright, Chuck, here's the deal," she said, turning to him. "Verdugo's in town to meet with MS-13. They want us at the meet to see if you flash on any high-profile members of the organization."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Chuck replied sarcastically. "When and where?"

"Friday night, the Viper Room."

Chuck brightened noticeably. "Oh, hey! Jack Johnson's playing the Viper Room on Friday night!"

"Jack who?"

* * *

Director Graham picked up the phone and dialed. A moment later, the other end answered. 

"Beckman, secure."

"Moab Project is a go."

* * *

_**Author's note:**__ the events of this chapter immediately precede the events of the story "The Star-Spangled Intersect"._

_To find out what happens from this point forward, and what exactly the "Moab Project" refers to, I would recommend reading "The Star-Spangled Intersect" before moving on to the next chapter._

_Happy trails!_


	4. Chuck vs Eleanor and the Browncoat

_**Author's Note:**__ the events of this chapter occur approximately two weeks after the main events of the story "The Star-Spangled Intersect", and approximately four months before the "epilogue" portion of the story. I recommend reading that story before reading this chapter if you want to understand everything fully.  
_

* * *

When Chuck returned to work on Wednesday, March 5th, Big Mike had wanted to know exactly where the hell Bartowski had been and what the hell he'd been doing with his time.

So Chuck told him the truth. He told him that he'd been abducted by the National Security Agency, stuck in a CIA facility in Moab, Utah, and been broken out by two spies who had been pretty badly beaten up in the process.

Big Mike had just stared at him for a moment. Then he started laughing.

"You know, Bartowski, that's why you do so well. You can take the worst situation, spin some outrageous bullshit story to make people laugh and like you, and come out smelling like a rose."

Then he stopped laughing and looked Bartowski in the eye. "You ever let it happen again, and I will put you on overnight stock duty for the rest of your LIFE."

It was a little weird those two weeks for Chuck not to have to constantly check in with his minders. Casey was laid up in his apartment, recuperating his two broken legs, and Sarah was still in the hospital in Arizona. There was a team of Secret Service agents that followed Chuck pretty much everywhere he went, but they kept a rather low profile.

The powers that be had persuaded Sarah's boss at the Wienerlicious that she'd been in a bad car accident, and had told Big Mike the same thing about Casey. That got them a couple weeks of leeway.

Ellie and Devin, of course, were now privy to the truth of the matter – had it not been for them, Sarah would probably be dead. However, Chuck had to spin the lie about Sarah and Casey to everybody else, including Morgan.

The charade-on-top-of-the-charade had gotten to be somewhat tiring for Chuck, and so he decided to take his mind off of it a bit. Today was St. Patrick's Day, and he was going all out. He had gone to some bizarre little boutique in West Hollywood, and purchased a kelly green suit with gold trim. He'd managed to find green boots, and a green bowler hat.

"I'm gonna be the goddamn Lucky Charms leprechaun," he muttered to himself as he got dressed.

And when he got out of the Herder at the plaza that morning, did he ever draw looks. People were rushing out of the stores to see him. The only person who didn't have a surprised look on her face was Lou, who just smiled and shook her head before going back into the sandwich shop.

The best part about the outfit was that it was Buy More colors, so Big Mike couldn't really yell at him for being out of uniform. In fact, Big Mike – who was wearing an oversized ballcap that said, "Kiss me, I'm Irish" – thought it was quite original, and wanted to know why more Buy More employees hadn't gotten into the holiday spirit.

Chuck got a number of dirty looks for the next couple hours. However, those subsided as he used his (truly horrendous) imitation Irish accent to amuse customers and co-workers.

Around noon, he was standing inside the Nerd Herd desk, back to the door, doing his best to entertain the rest of the Herd (and Morgan).

"Aye, faith an' begorrah!" Chuck brogued. "Th' problem with livin' in Los Angeles is that I don' know how to keep th' locals from tryin' to take me lucky charms!"

"Boooo!" Morgan called.

"And then there be assholes such as the wee bearded one o'er there who thinks he be such a big, big man," Chuck shot back.

"Aye, and dontcha think it's bad luck to be callin' yer best mate by such an insultin' term?" came a female voice with a perfect Irish accent from behind him.

Irish accent or no, there was only one person who had that voice. Chuck's eyes went wide, and he whirled around.

There she was. She looked exactly like she had the first time he'd ever seen her – she was even wearing reddish-tan leather jacket she'd been wearing that first day she'd walked in the Buy More – _how is it that that was less than six months ago?! _his subconscious screamed.

He couldn't think of words to say. Even though it had only been thirteen days since he'd seen her last. Even though he'd spoken to her on the phone every night. Here she was, right in front of him.

"Hi," she said softly.

The smile on his face spread almost wide enough to split his face in two. "Hi," he said back.

And then, with no warning, he vaulted over the counter, drawing a "Whoa," from Morgan. He landed right in front of Sarah.

Reaching out, he pulled her to him – gently, because he knew she was probably still fairly fragile from her gunshot wounds and subsequent surgery – embraced her, and kissed her, long and passionately, in front of the entire store. After what felt like ten minutes, she pulled the bowler hat off his head and tossed it up in the air, causing him to laugh and break the kiss.

As they broke away from each other, they became aware of a noise surrounding them –

Applause.

Everybody around them who could see them was applauding – employees, customers, Big Mike, Devin, Ellie, Casey in his wheelchair – _exactly where did those three come from?_ Chuck asked himself.

"So," he asked softly, putting his forehead against hers, "how would you like to go on an actual, real, honest-to-God, 'we're really a couple now' date?"

"I think I would be a very big fan of that," she whispered back.

* * *

"It's funny," Ellie said, "you guys really had me sold on actually being a couple when you were just acting, but now that I know the truth, and I compare that to what I saw on Tuesday – it's like night and day."

"Yeah, there's something to be said for what being in love does for a couple," Devin added. "Because, seriously, that kiss in the Buy More? Possibly one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

Chuck stopped brushing lint off his old sport coat for a moment. "Okay, Devin, seriously, I get where you're going there, but it's just making me a little uncomfortable," he said, cocking his head to one side.

"Not a problem, Chuckster," Devin replied. "Totally awesome."

"So where are you two going, Chuck?" Ellie wanted to know.

"Gonna splurge just a little bit," Chuck replied. "I'm taking her to dinner at Simon's at the Sofitel –"

"Wow," Devin interrupted. "That's massively awesome."

"- and then, we're going to this club in West Hollywood. It's called I Spy, and from what I've gathered, it's a comedy and performance club frequented primarily by nerds."

Ellie's eyebrows went up. "Well, you two certainly are that," she laughed.

"Yeah, and Friday nights are open mike night. I'M not going to do anything," Chuck clarified, "but it's bound to be fun to watch."

"How are you gettin' there?" Devin asked.

"Herder, most likely."

Devin stood up, shaking his head. "Can't do it, Chuck, just can't do it. This is your first real date with the girl."

"So?"

Devin sighed. "Alright. How much time do you have till you need to pick her up?"

"I've got an hour, but not much more."

"Let's go for a little drive, Chuck."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Devin's Escape pulled into a storage complex in Arcadia. "Tonight, Chuck, you truly become a man," Devin murmured in an almost reverent voice as he rolled to a stop in front of a large unit.

Devin got out of the Ford, and Chuck followed suit. Crossing to the door of the unit, Devin input a ten digit-long code into a keypad by the door. When he finished, the pad beeped, and the door began to scroll upwards.

When it had opened halfway, bright lights came on inside the unit. Chuck still couldn't tell what was inside, but when the door had opened fully…

"This is the Awesome Mobile," Devin informed him. "Like the Batmobile, except Awesome."

And that, it most certainly was. "My God," Chuck breathed. "You have an honest-to-God Eleanor."

"When I was in high school," Devin explained, as Chuck admired the car, "I received a 1967 Ford Mustang fastback. It was kind of beat-up, but it was my car, and damn could she go fast. I held on to that thing, too, always promising myself I'd restore it one day.

"_Gone in Sixty Seconds_ came out my senior year at UCLA. I got obsessed with the Shelby that Nicolas Cage drove, and I swore I was going to turn mine into one just like it.

"It took me almost three years of weekends and breaks from med school, but soon enough, I had my very own pseudo Shelby Mustang GT 500. And tonight, you're gonna take Sarah out in it."

Devin withdrew his right hand from his pocket, and tossed a set of keys to Chuck. Chuck caught the keys, still not believing this was real. "What if… what if I scratch it, or something?" Chuck asked incredulously.

"I'll bill the CIA," Devin replied jokingly. Then he got serious. "But seriously, dude, don't. If they tell you to go on some sort of mission tonight, tell them you're driving a 1967 Shelby GT 500. Tell Director Graham. He seems like the kind of guy who understands the bond between a man and his car."

Still in disbelief, Chuck opened the driver's door of the car and slid behind the wheel. He slipped the key into the ignition and turned. It took a few cranks, but quickly enough, the engine roared to life.

"Three hundred and fifty-one cubic inches of Ford Windsor engine," Devin shouted over the noise of the car.

Chuck felt like he had his hands on the leash of a wild horse that was about to be let loose. "Take it easy exiting the facility," Devin yelled. "And then, let her rip."

Chuck put the Awesome Mobile into first, then slowly let his foot of the clutch as he gave it just the tiniest amount of gas. The 351 Windsor engine throbbed as the Mustang slowly rolled out of the storage unit into the driveway.

Chuck kept his speed low until he was out onto Huntington Drive. He brought it up a little as he took a left onto Santa Anita Avenue – and then, he let her rip.

Devin, following in his Escape, was absolutely amazed at the speed with which the Mustang pulled away from him. "Weird watching it from this angle," he mused.

Chuck practically flew onto the Foothill Freeway headed west. He drove with reckless disregard for the speed limit, transitioning onto the Ventura Freeway and the Glendale Freeway with little change in speed.

The Glendale Freeway turned into Glendale Boulevard, which became Lucas Avenue, and then Chuck took a hard left onto Wilshire, headed into downtown. When he reached Figueroa, he called Sarah.

"You're early," she said, a mock-accusatory tone in her voice.

"Come downstairs," Chuck replied.

"Why?"

"Just… you'll want to be downstairs in about sixty seconds," Chuck assured her.

A hard right onto Flower, and he was headed straight for Sarah's building. He could see her standing out front as he crossed over 7th Street, nearly a block and a half away. It was pretty evident that she heard the noise of the big Ford engine, because she turned her head to stare at the Mustang.

When Chuck was about one hundred feet away from her, he stood on the brake and the clutch, popping the transmission into neutral and holding tight to the wheel. He slid to a stop right in front of her, and rolled down his window.

Her eyes were wide, but there was a look of clear excitement and anticipation on her face. "Need a lift?"

* * *

Chuck had made the drive to the Sofitel seem like a thrill ride, and Sarah loved every second of it. Dinner had been fantastic, the valet had complimented Chuck on the ensemble of car and girl, and it had been a thoroughly enjoyable night all around.

Now Chuck and Sarah were at I Spy, and it had actually been pretty good so far. It was amazing how musically and comedically talented some of these nerds were, and Sarah was having quite enough to drink to make sure that even those who weren't funny seemed it.

Then, a guy in a wheelchair with a guitar rolled up on stage. He was wearing a t-shirt that had but one word: "Browncoat." His ballcap had a big number "2" on it, crossed by a rifle. He had a pretty thick goatee and mustache. Chuck didn't recognize him, but there was something very familiar about him.

"Do you recognize the guy on stage?" he asked Sarah.

She peered at him for a moment. "I… do not," she replied deliberately. "Although something does seem familiar about him."

"Evenin', folks," he said in a Texas-accented gravelly voice that also held a distinct tone of familiarity for Chuck. "I'm here to sing for you a song from one of my favorite TV shows. You see, I've got some friends who reckon I look a little bit like Adam Baldwin –"

Chuck's eyes went wide. "NO WAY."

Sarah just looked at him. "What?"

"- and so I'm gonna sing you my own personal arrangement of the Ballad of Jayne – Hero of Canton!"

There was a huge round of applause for that. Sarah looked across at Chuck. "I don't get it."

Chuck forgot for a moment about his theory on the identity of the man on stage. "Wait, you've never seen any episodes of _Firefly_, have you?"

Sarah shook here head.

Chuck pounded his fist on the table. "We will have to correct that at some point."

And then, the man on stage started singing.

"_Oh, he robbed from the rich… and he gave to the poor! Stood up to the man, and gave him what for!_"

Sarah looked at Chuck. "I know that voice. I really do. I just don't know where from."

"I know," Chuck replied, "and I thought it was somebody, but I'm not sure. I'm not flashing on anything, either."

"_And he saw the Magistrate takin' every dollar and leavin' five cents!_"

Chuck stopped thinking about it and just enjoyed the song, clapping along and joining in on the chorus.

"_Oh, he robbed from the rich, and he gave to the poor, stood up to the man and gave him what for! Our love for him now ain't hard to explain, the hero of Canton, the man they call… Jayne!_"

As he sat back down at the end of the chorus, Sarah gave him a look that was full of nothing but amusement. While the man on stage sang about how Jayne Cobb had dropped a plane full of money on the people of Higgins' Moon, Chuck leaned across the table.

"Thanks for putting up with my nerdness," he said to Sarah.

She grabbed his hands and leaned toward him. "The only reason I put up with this is because I have, for reasons passing understanding, fallen madly in love with you."

Chuck's smile could've lit up the room. He leaned over a little farther and kissed Sarah, pulling back just in time for the last chorus.

"…_the hero of Canton... the man they call JAYNE!_" Chuck shouted it out, feeling an odd kinship with his fellow nerds for just that one moment.

"Thank you folks," the man on stage said into the microphone. "That was fun. My name's Ron Macy!"

Chuck and Sarah's eyes both went wide. He looked over at her.

"No way."

"Can't be!"

* * *

The next day was Casey's first day back at the Buy More. He was still in his wheelchair, but had deemed himself more than able to sell. "Maybe he can help that angry little dwarf the next time he comes in here," Morgan grumbled as Casey rolled toward him and Chuck.

Chuck rolled his eyes, and then grinned. As Casey got just within earshot, he said, "Well, Morgan, he robbed from the rich, and he gave to the poor."

Morgan looked at him. "Excuse me?"

But the bigger effect was on John Casey. His head snapped around to the left, his eyes wide, and he stared at Chuck. "WHAT?!"

Chuck's face was the picture of innocence as he looked back at Casey. "Robin Hood, dude, what did you think I was talking about?"

Then, as soon as Casey rolled away, Chuck made a beeline for the DVD section. Grabbing a copy of the _Firefly_ discs, he opened it and pulled out the disc with "Jaynestown" on it.

He ran over to the TV wall and interrupted Jeff and Lester doing… whatever they were doing. He wasn't sure. "Need the wall, guys," he said breathlessly, using Harry Tang's old universal remote to change everything to the Blu-Ray player they were hooked up to.

Chuck popped the disc into the player, then cued up the "Hero of Canton" scene in "Jaynestown." Turning the volume up quite loud, he hit play.

"_OH, HE ROBBED FROM THE RICH, AND HE GAVE TO THE POOR… STOOD UP TO THE MAN, AND GAVE HIM WHAT FOR!_"

Chuck had never seen an unpowered wheelchair move quite so quickly as John Casey's. He skidded to a stop next to Chuck, looking up at him with unmitigated hatred.

"You are a DEAD MAN, Bartowski."


	5. Chuck vs Antihistamines

Spring was in the air in Los Angeles, California.

And as a result of spring being in the air, there were a number of other things in the air as well. Together, they were all conspiring to make Special Agent Sarah Walker, CIA, completely miserable.

Nothing she had tried was working. Benadryl, Claritin, Zyrtec – she had tried them all at some point in the last week, and they had all failed her.

Things had gotten so bad that she had had to forgo a stakeout the night before. Not that it was that great a loss – Casey and Chuck had agreed that it had been boring as hell.

What really annoyed her was that she was supposed to go out with Chuck tonight. It didn't look like that was going to happen, not the way she felt.

In frustration, she blew out her breath – through her mouth, since she couldn't seem to breathe through her nose – picked up her phone, and called Chuck.

Three rings, four rings, five – and it went to his voicemail. _He must be with a customer or something_, she thought.

"Hi, you've reached Chuck Bartowski. I'm sorry I can't answer the phone, but if you'll leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is a Nerd Herd emergency, please call the Nerd Herd desk at…"

She took as deep a breath as she could so that she could actually talk without dying. The tone sounded.

"Chug," she garbled out. "Dis is Sarah. I'b sorry, bud I'b feelig miderabuh. I cad barely breed, and tawging is a real probbeb ride dow. I'b defididly dot godda be able to go adywear todight. I'b so sorry."

She paused to cough, then took another breath. "Gib be a call lader… I lub you."

Sarah hung up the phone, set it down on the desk, and threw herself on the bed. This was a serious mistake, as it puffed out something that set off a sneeze attack.

After a minute or two, the sneezes finally stopped. She lay curled up on her bed, almost in the fetal position.

"I hade sprig," she moaned.

* * *

Chuck had felt his phone vibrate, but he'd been on the Nerd Herd line with a customer frantic about the crash of his brand new Macbook Air just then. Turned out that it hadn't crashed after all – the customer had installed Windows Vista for a dual boot system and forgot to read the instructions on how to boot the computer with two OSs.

When he finally got off the phone, he checked his iPhone. He'd missed a call from Sarah. He tried to pull up the voicemail-to-text option, but his iPhone told him that it was unable to translate the voicemail.

Well, that was odd. It had never done that before. Dialing "1", he put the phone to his ear to listen.

He shortly found out just why his iPhone couldn't decipher the voicemail. He could barely understand himself what Sarah was saying. However, he got the gist – her allergies were making her miserable, and she wasn't going to be able to go out tonight.

"Well, time to create a Plan B," he muttered to himself.

* * *

Chuck took off from the Buy More early, hoping to catch Ellie before she headed off to work. Luckily, he reached the apartment just as she was getting ready to go.

"Hey, sis," he panted, out of breath from speeding the whole way home and running from the car to the apartment.

"Chuck?" Ellie said. "Have you been running?"

He nodded.

"Why?"

"Wanted to catch you before you left," he wheezed. "Sarah's got allergies from hell, and nothing over-the-counter OR prescription has been working for her. Got any advice?"

Ellie didn't say anything, just dug in her purse, pulled out a small bottle, and tossed it to Chuck.

He looked at it and rolled his eyes. "Hista Drops?" he said. "Come on, Ellie, you know those don't work worth crap."

"They don't work for you or Devin," she corrected him. "They work GREAT for me, and you have no idea how they'll work for Sarah until she's tried them."

"Alright," Chuck said. "You're the doctor. I just fix computers."

"That's right," Ellie replied. "I'm not here telling you that DDR II RAM is crap, am I?"

Chuck glared daggers at her. "You know far too much about computers to be making those kinds of comparisons, and you know it."

Ellie just laughed. "Yes, and that is why your big sister always wins." She gave him a little hug as she passed. "I'll be back around, oh, five in the morning. Have a good night!"

He set the bottle down on the kitchen counter. What the hell, he'd give it a shot. They might do something for her. Ellie was right – he didn't know if they'd work for Sarah until she tried them.

What he did know was that he wasn't going to totally abandon the date he was supposed to go on tonight. In fact, remembering that she hadn't had a clue what "Ron Macy" had been going on about at I Spy, he decided it was time to introduce her to the world of _Firefly_.

Around five o'clock, he put a call in to Pizza Buona – a large supreme pizza, NO OLIVES. He emphasized that part three or four times – "My girlfriend doesn't like olives, and she will hurt me if there are olives on her pizza," he said, only half-joking about the second part.

At a quarter after, he left the apartment, taking the _Firefly_ DVDs and the bottle of Hista Drops with him. He stopped by Pizza Buona and picked up the pizza, getting a two-liter of Diet Coke while he was at it.

Five thirty found him pulling up in front of Sarah's building. He couldn't help but remember the first time he came here with a pizza – he had so desperately wanted to know something real about her. He'd asked for her name, her first name, her middle name – nothing. Now, oddly enough, he knew her entire name – but she wanted him to know her as Sarah Walker.

Upon reaching her floor, he turned to head from the elevator toward her room. About halfway there, he heard the distinctive sounds of somebody having a sneezing fit behind a closed door.

"Good Lord," he whispered. "She must have it really bad."

He paused for a moment before knocking on her door, wanting to make sure she wasn't sneezing her head off and would therefore hear the knock. After a few seconds, he rapped a few times on the door.

The door opened, to present a rather frightful looking spy. She was dressed in a faded Green Bay Packers t-shirt and basketball shorts. Her face was almost completely red. The area around her eyes was puffy, and her eyes were watering. Her hair was tousled, and she just looked absolutely miserable.

Despite all that, her face lit up when she saw him, a smile crossing her face that said she was truly happy that he was there.

"You said you couldn't go on a date tonight," Chuck said, "so the date came to you!"

Sarah's smile got a little bigger. She reached up and kissed him gently. "Dis is by I lub you," she sniffed.

"I'm just going to assume you said, 'This is why I love you,' and leave it at that," Chuck said with a grin.

Sarah nodded, and then stepped back so that Chuck could enter the room.

Chuck handed the small bottle to her. "I've got this herbal thing my sister said you should try for your allergies. It doesn't work for me, but she said it might work differently for you."

Squinting, Sarah read the directions on the bottle, then pulled out the dropper, and dropped the recommended dosage on her tongue. Almost immediately, her face wrinkled, and she stuck her tongue out. "Blah," she said. "Dat tasdes lige ass."

With a weary sigh, she sat down on her bed. "I readdy hobe you weren'd exbectig to be eddertaid, Chuck. I readdy feel lige crab."

"I know," Chuck replied. "Which is why, I expect you to do nothing more than have a couple of pieces of the best pizza in Echo Park, and experience your first exposure to _Firefly._"

"_Firefdy_? You bead the show wid dat sogg about 'The Bad Dey Call Jayde'?"

"You mean the song that Casey… um, I mean, 'Ron Macy' sang at the club?" Chuck asked. "Yep, that's the show."

"I don'd dow, Chug. I bide fall asleeb."

"I promise you won't."

So, she agreed to give _Firefly_ a shot. By the end of the original pilot, Sarah was interested, and by the end of "The Train Job", she was hooked.

"How exactly did FOX cancel this?" she asked.

"They're a bunch of – hey, your voice is sounding better," Chuck noticed.

"Yeah, I actually feel like I can breathe," she replied. "Looks like your sister may have been right after all!"

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't be the FIRST time," he allowed.

By the end of "Bushwhacked", Sarah was feeling a little sleepy, and by the end of "Shindig," her head was resting on Chuck's shoulder, her eyes drooping.

"I think it's just about bedtime," she said sleepily.

Chuck started to move, planning to retrieve his DVDs, bid Sarah good-night, and head home, but as he did, she grabbed his arm.

"Why don't you stay," she whispered.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Sarah propped herself up on an elbow and looked Chuck directly in the eyes. "Chuck Bartowski, you are my…"

She smiled. "My boyfriend. If anybody has a problem with you spending the night here, they can deal with me."

Chuck arched an eyebrow. "Sarah Walker… I am definitely not a boy."

Her smile got even bigger. "And if I didn't feel absolutely miserable, I might ask you to prove that to me."

And with that statement, Chuck's face turned bright red. "Uh… you know…"

"I know," she said. "That's something we should really talk about at some point. Like, soon."

She yawned. And didn't stop yawning for several seconds. "Not right now, though," she said wearily. "Right now, it's time for sleep."

Without warning, she reached up and turned off the lights. "Thanks for letting me get ready for bed before casting me into the darkness," Chuck snarked.

"Oh, shut up. You're a big boy, you can handle yourself."

"I'm not a boy," Chuck grumbled. He quickly shucked his jeans and his collared shirt, leaving him in his boxers and his undershirt. He crawled under the covers – and froze.

Sarah unfroze him by answering his unspoken question and cuddling up against him. "I think that if I tell you that I'm in love with you, it's safe to assume that you're allowed to cuddle up to me," she whispered.

Chuck responded by wrapping his left arm around her mid-section and kissing her on the back of the neck. "Good night," he said.

"Mmmm," was her only response.

* * *

The next morning, Chuck woke up early – just after 7:00. He had the day off, and didn't really have to go anywhere. Sarah had called in sick for the whole weekend, he knew, so she didn't have to go anywhere either.

As he came to wakefulness, he realized that their positions had shifted during the night. He was now lying on his back, and Sarah was lying next to him, face down, her head resting on his right shoulder. His right arm was wrapped underneath her, his hand on her back.

"Well, damn," he whispered. He couldn't very well move from this position without waking her up, and he didn't want to do that.

After about five minutes of just laying there, though, she spoke. "So, are you ever going to move, or are you just going to lay there until you rot?"

He looked down at her in disbelief. "How long have you been awake?"

"I woke up about five minutes before you did," she replied, unable to keep a laugh out of her voice. "And you've just been lying there, not wanting to disturb me."

Her head popped up. "How truly chivalrous."

Chuck responded in a truly mature fashion. He stuck his tongue out at her. Her eyebrows shot up.

"Do that again and I'll bite it," she threatened.

"Sounds like you're feeling a little frisky," Chuck laughed.

Sarah smiled – and then sneezed. It was a big sneeze. It was a WET sneeze.

Chuck just sat there. "That… is disgusting."

"Sorry," Sarah said, but from the look in her eyes, he could tell that she was anything but.

With a sort of growl, Chuck rolled out of the bed, and stalked to the bathroom. "Do you happen to have a spare toothbrush?" he called.

"Uh, just open the left hand side of the medicine cabinet," she replied.

She heard the door open, and then silence. A moment later, he looked out the door of the bathroom, an incredulous look on his face.

"That… is practically identical to my medicine cabinet," he said. "Are you stalking me?"

She smiled. "No, but that's what happens when your girlfriend is a spy."

He shook his head. "I'm going to take a shower," he said. He paused, as if he was going to add something else, like _Care to join me?_, but he didn't

The door shut, and Sarah heard the water come on.

When Chuck came out of the bathroom, clean and dressed, he discovered that Sarah had started up _Firefly_ again and was halfway through "Safe."

"Aw, you started back up without me!" he whined.

"Deal with it," she shot back.

Chuck stuck out his tongue at her again, then jumped on the bed, jostling her. She hit him with a pillow in revenge. However, she was so drawn to the show that that was the end of that, as he sat back against the headboard, Sarah snuggling up to him.

And they were still there almost ten hours, a bucket of KFC, Chinese takeout, ten episodes, and a feature film later. It was 6:00 PM, and they had watched all the way through to the end of the series, and then watched _Serenity_ as well. Sarah had paused a couple of times to take some of the Hista Drops, but otherwise, it had been uninterrupted _Firefly_ all day long.

Sarah was now in shock. "They killed Wash."

"Yes, Sarah, yes they did," Chuck replied, an amused grin on his face.

"Chuck. THEY KILLED WASH!"

Chuck looked over at her, his amused grin getting even bigger. "You can't stand that they killed such a nice guy, can you?"

"It's not right!"

"And yet, you'll handle it and move on," Chuck replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He extracted his arm from behind Sarah's back. "I am supposed to meet Morgan at 7:00 PM, and I will be a dead man if I don't."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to let you go, then," Sarah mock-pouted. "Although, I'd say you stand a much greater chance of me being able to kill you than Morgan."

"I seem to recall once counting one hundred ways how you could do that," Chuck deadpanned. "So I'll concede that point. Nonetheless, I have to go and actually be a good friend."

"Alright, fine…"

"Oh, don't 'alright, fine' me," Chuck said. He reached out to tickle her, but then thought better of it, realizing that her abdomen might still be just a little bit sore from her not-too-far-in-the-past surgery.

So instead, he just grabbed her by the waist, pulled her over to him, and kissed her. For quite a while, actually. When he finally pulled back, her eyes stayed closed, a smile on her face.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For the most fun I've had in a while," she said.

"You're very welcome," Chuck replied with a smile.

He stood up and headed toward the door. He looked over his shoulder as he opened the door. "I'll give you a call later."

"Chuck…"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Sarah."


	6. Chuck vs the First Time

_**Author's Note:** So I thought I was going to have to put a "mature content" warning on this chapter. But then, as I was writing it, I realized that some things are better left to the imagination._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Chuck had computer parts strewn all over the dining room table. There were parts from at least a dozen different computers, along with two XBoxes and a PS3.

Morgan had asked him what he was doing two nights earlier. Chuck's answer was that he had had a flash of inspiration the other night on how to build a computer that was at least marginally self-aware, but that he needed lots and lots of computer components, not to mention his own custom code (which filled a Word document 97 pages long right now).

"Well, if I were you, I'd hope that Sarah Connor doesn't show up, pistols blazing," Morgan warned him. "That sounds like the beginnings of Skynet to me!"

Chuck just looked at him. "Morgan, you do understand that there is a dividing line between fiction and reality, yes?"

"I'm just saying, Chuck," Morgan continued, "don't blame me when a T-1000 shows up here and you're not ready to face him."

Chuck shook his head and rolled his eyes.

And so it was that on a fine Saturday morning in mid April, when Chuck should've been out doing something productive like hiking a mountain or tanning at the beach, he was in his apartment, trying to build his very own artificially intelligent life form.

"That's just not right," Devin whispered to Ellie, peering in through the window.

"No, it's not," Ellie replied. "But what's worst of all is that she's almost as big a nerd herself. She'll never admit it, but she is, which is why she's willing to put up with this."

"We've got to put a stop to it," Devin decided. "It's not healthy for two human beings to have such feelings for each other and not do anything about it."

He stood up and struck a pose, like he was making a grand announcement. "And I should know, because I'm a doctor."

At just that moment, John Casey hobbled out of his apartment, saw Ellie crouched down by the window, and Devin standing in grand announcement pose. "Morning, John!" Devin called.

"Shhhh!" Ellie hissed.

Casey just shook his head, lifted a crutch to them, and continued on his way.

"Pretty amazing that he's already up on crutches," Devin said.

"Would you SHUT UP!" Ellie whispered.

But it was too late. Chuck had heard Devin, and was headed toward the door. "Shit," Ellie cursed. "I'm gonna go. Keep me in the loop on your part of the plan."

Ellie disappeared around the corner just as Chuck opened the door. "Oh, hey, I thought I heard you out here, Devin."

"Yeah, I was just saying hi to John," Devin said. "How's Commander Data coming along?"

"Right, very funny," Chuck said sarcastically. "It's coming… slowly."

He returned to the table, took a seat, and resumed his attempts to daisy-chain multiple motherboards. "Goddamn Sony bullshit," he muttered to himself.

"Uh, Chuck," Devin said, sitting down at the end of the table. "Mind if I interrupt for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure," Chuck said, not even looking up from his work.

"So, I, uh, I know it's not really much, if any, of my business, but… I know you and Sarah, um, kept up certain appearances when you were faking your relationship, but now that it's real, um… have you guys sealed the deal yet?"

That got Chuck's attention. He put the motherboard down, and didn't speak for a moment. When he finally did, it came out something like, "Uh… well… there's… um, compli- no."

"That's kind of what I figured," Devin sighed. "If you don't mind my asking, why not?"

* * *

"Sarah!" Ellie called as she saw the tall blonde get out of her car. "Over here!"

Ellie was seated on the patio of the Starbucks down the street from the apartment. Sarah saw her, smiled, and joined her at the table.

"How have things been?" Ellie asked Sarah by way of opening.

"Oh, you know," Sarah said. "Burnt hot dogs on Monday, burnt hot dogs on Tuesday, took down an international drug cartel on Wednesday, burnt hot dogs on Thursday… that sort of thing."

Ellie couldn't help but laugh. "You really have opened up a lot in the last month," she said.

"Well, that has a lot to do with almost dying," Sarah replied. "But it has even more to do with your brother. He… he just really brings out the best in me, I guess."

Ellie smiled and nodded. "Better than hearing that he brings out the worst in you, I guess."

Sarah winced. "I actually told him that once," she admitted. Then she backtracked. "Of course, it was partly because he had just said the same thing to me, and partly because I thought a bomb was about to go off, and he wouldn't run… yeah, that was bad."

"He said you bring out the worst in him?" Ellie was shocked. "You want me to slap him for you?"

Sarah laughed and looked down at the table. "No, I think I'll be okay. It was almost five months ago, anyway."

_Here we go_, thought Ellie, taking a deep breath. "Anyway," she said, "I actually wanted to talk to you about Chuck. I don't want to sound overly interested in my brother's romantic life, but I know that you and he had to convince us all that you were… intimate… when your relationship was just a cover story, but I can't help but ask – have the two of you actually… slept together?"

Sarah blushed bright red and looked down at the table, suddenly engrossed in playing with a loose thread on her sweater. When she finally looked up, she looked unsure of herself, uncertain of what to say.

"Well… we have slept in the same bed… but if you're referring to us making love… no, no we haven't."

Ellie leaned back and folded her arms. "Hmmm."

* * *

"You see, Devin, okay… um…"

Chuck was trying to think fast enough for his brain to stay ahead of his mouth. "I've always viewed sex as something with huge emotional attachment to it… it's not something I embark upon lightly.

"The thing here is that, well, first of all, I haven't had sex in something like five years. Secondly, I've only ever had sex with one person, and thirdly, she kind of, well, stabbed me in the back, and so I'm just…"

He stopped to think for a moment. "Terrified. I'm terrified that I'll have sex with Sarah, grow even more emotionally attached than I already am, and then something bad will happen."

"Even more emotionally attached," Devin mused. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Um…"

"Listen. You and Sarah love each other, right? I mean, I've heard the two of you say it to one another. You've said how much you're in love with Sarah."

"This is true…"

"So let me ask you this. The first time you slept with Jill, had you told her that you loved her?"

Chuck had to think. When he realized the truth, his eyes went wide.

"No. No, I hadn't!"

* * *

Sarah looked across the table at the older woman. "It's not that I don't want to," she said, holding up her hands. "It's just… there's something that's making me hold back for some reason."

Ellie just looked at Sarah, the expression on her face encouraging Sarah to continue.

"See…" Sarah paused. "Despite all the training I received at Langley, despite the fact that we're taught that sometimes sex is a necessary tool in the field… I've just, well, I've just never been able to reconcile myself with that idea. Maybe it's because of my upbringing…"

And with that, Sarah crossed a line. She hadn't talked about growing up in the six years since she had joined the CIA, but now, it was all about to spill out of her.

"I grew up in a pretty conservative Catholic home," she explained. "My parents tried to instill in me this idea that sex was for marriage, and only for marriage. And I mean, when my mom died, I kind of left the church in the dust, and I certainly didn't save myself for marriage, but there's something about everything they told me that has put this feeling in me that sex is unquestionably the closest expression of intimacy you can have with somebody."

Then, Sarah realized. "Oh God," she said. "Ellie, you have to forget everything I just said."

"Don't worry," Ellie replied. "I'm not going to tell anybody about your past. Not even Chuck – although you should, maybe, consider doing so yourself. Just a thought."

She stopped to collect her thoughts. "But basically, if I'm understanding you correctly, if you're going to have sex with Chuck, it's going to be because you want to show him that you want to have intimacy in every area of your shared lives. Am I about right?"

Sarah nodded. "And the thing is," she said softly, "I'm afraid that if I allow myself to be that open to Chuck, and then something were to happen between us, or worse yet, something were to happen to him…"

She stopped. "It would just totally devastate you," Ellie finished.

Sarah nodded. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with that," Ellie said. "In fact, I really think that says just how much you do love him. But you've got to open yourself up to that risk, Sarah. Look at you. You're this big, bad spy who, in your own words, took down an international drug cartel between shifts at the Wienerlicious. You could probably disable every single person at this Starbucks before anybody realized what was going on.

"But you can't have that element of control over every part of your life. You've got to let yourself be vulnerable somehow. You have to take a risk. And I may be biased in my judgment, but I think that my brother is a risk worth taking."

Sarah looked down at her hands for quite a long moment. When she looked back up at Ellie, her eyes were shining with tears.

"You're completely right about everything," she whispered. "Chuck is the best thing that's ever happened to me. He's definitely a risk worth taking.

"I just have to convince myself."

* * *

"Okay, Chuckster, well, there you go. You made sweet, sweet love to Jill –"

"Devin!"

"Alright, well, you get my point. You're in love with Sarah, you want to be intimate with her… what's holding you back?"

Chuck thought about it for a moment. "Nothing, really, I guess," he said. "It's just, I worked so hard to get to this point, I don't want to move before she's ready and lose all of that."

Devin looked at Chuck like he would a small child. "Chuck," he said patiently, "I have seen the way Sarah looks at you. You will not lose 'all of that'. I'm pretty sure she wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with her."

"How sure are you, Devin?"

Devin leaned forward, a grin on his face. "Chuck, I was in a UCLA fraternity. I like to consider myself an expert on these things."

Chuck nodded. "And there, you just went and made it creepy. Thanks, Devin."

Devin laughed. "Awesome."

The door opened, and Ellie stepped in, with Sarah behind her.

"Hey, babe," Devin said, as Chuck shot to his feet.

"Hey, Devin," Ellie said. "Listen, I think we should go. I'm pretty sure these two have some things to talk about."

Chuck looked from Devin to Ellie to Sarah and back to Devin. "Wait a second," he said. "This whole thing was a setup?!"

Sarah had a look of amused disbelief on her face. Chuck was just straight up shocked. "I had no IDEA you two could be that devious!"

Devin just grinned as he joined Ellie. "Don't have too much fun, guys."

Chuck started babbling out an apology as the door swung shut behind Devin. "I'm so sorry," he said, "I have no idea what they were thin-"

His words were cut off as Sarah kissed him. "I don't care," she whispered. "Chuck Bartowski, I am madly in love with you. I need to stop trying to rigidly control my life, and that starts with you."

* * *

About half an hour later, Morgan came ambling into the apartment courtyard. He crossed behind the apartment, reached up, and swung open Chuck's bedroom window. He boosted himself up and in –

"What the hell?! Chuck?! SARAH?!"

"MORGAN!"

"GET OUT!"


	7. Chuck vs the Birthday

"Hey, Morgan, can I talk to you real quick?"

"Yeah, Chuck, what's goin' on?"

"Listen. You and Anna… you really, um, need to stop your 'funtime activities' in the break room."

"Aw, come on, Chuck!"

"Morgan, there are certain things that normal, decent people should never have to see, and that, really, is one of them."

"Like you're one to talk. I seem to recall I walked in on you and Sarah gettin' freaky."

"WE WERE IN MY BEDROOM!"

"You say tomato, I say tomahto," Morgan replied flippantly, unaware that John Casey had walked up behind him.

Morgan yelped as Casey grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

"How about this, Grimes," Casey hissed in his ear. "If I ever walk in on you and Anna in the break room again, I will take pictures and post them all over the shopping plaza. Your shame will then be complete."

Morgan gave Casey a dirty look and walked away. Chuck looked at Casey and shook his head.

"You really are warped on the inside, Casey."

"Yeah, well, comes with the job," he replied. "Oh, and by the way, can you and Walker do me a favor? If you're gonna have some 'funtime activities' of your own, could you two warn me so that I can turn off the surveillance equipment? It's getting a little old to put on the headphones and hear the two of you…"

He stopped and literally shuddered.

Chuck just looked at him. "I thought you never turned that off."

"Yeah, well, shouldn't have to be off for more than one or two minutes, right?" Casey said with a rather mean-looking grin.

Chuck shot Casey the evil eye and then gave him the finger. Casey laughed and walked off.

Unbeknownst to Chuck, Anna had entered the Nerd Herd desk and had overheard the last portion of the conversation. "Aw, Chuck, are you a minuteman?" she asked, with concern in her voice.

Chuck's head whipped around. "What?!"

"Chuck, if you're having issues with longevity, you really ought to talk to Morgan. He can go for quite a while."

"Alright then," Chuck said matter-of-factly. "I think I'm going to go be sick now."

* * *

Chuck's real problem was actually of a much more tame nature. He had been trying – completely unsuccessfully – for the last two months to find out Sarah's birthday. She wouldn't tell him. Graham wouldn't tell him. Beckman wouldn't tell him. Casey didn't know, and he couldn't get in touch with Bryce.

One night, while Chuck was up far too late working on, as he called it, his Advanced Intelligence Supercomputer (the AIS for short), his phone rang. He grabbed it – unknown number.

"Hmmm," he said. Curious, he hit the answer button. "Hello?"

"Chuck!"

"Bryce! Holy shit! I've been trying to get in touch with you for like the last month!"

"Well, I've been under deep. Like, WAY deep. I had to – are you secure?"

"Should be," Chuck replied. "NSA had my phone modified a little while back."

"Alright. I had to penetrate into a Fulcrum cell, get deep inside. I ended up taking it down, but that was some fierce shit."

Chuck smiled. "Yeah… and meanwhile I've been up here in the daylight, building a computer that Morgan is convinced is going to become Skynet."

Bryce laughed. "Well, watch out for the Governor, then."

"I hadn't even considered that," Chuck replied with a laugh.

Bryce paused for a moment. "So, from what I hear… um, you and Sarah are also an item?"

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Finally, Chuck spoke.

"Yeah… um, a little more than three months now."

Chuck couldn't have been more shocked by Bryce's reply. "Good," Bryce said. "She deserves better than me. And given that she chose to stay there in Los Angeles with you over coming with me… well, I kind of figured it was inevitable."

"Well, it did take me getting kidnapped to make it happen," Chuck replied.

"Yeah, I heard about that, too," Bryce said. "I kind of gave Director Graham an earful.

"By the way. What are you doing for Sarah's birthday?"

"I have no idea!" Chuck replied. "That's why I've been trying to get in touch with you. I have no clue when her birthday is!"

Bryce was quiet for a moment. "Shit, dude," he said softly. "It's TOMORROW."

* * *

It was three o'clock in the morning. Chuck was quietly freaking out.

He was seated at the kitchen table, Ellie, Devin, and Casey all sitting there with him. "I'm a dead man," he moaned. "I'm completely screwed!"

"Get a hold of yourself, Bartowski," Casey replied crankily. "There's no way she's expecting anything. She herself wouldn't tell you when her birthday was."

"Yeah, but she told me it was because she wanted me to find out on my own, not because she was hiding it from me!"

Casey's eyebrows went up. "Oh. Then, yeah. You're screwed."

"Wait, wait, hold on a second," Devin interrupted. "She's supposed to be coming over anyway tomor- tonight, isn't she?"

"Yeah…"

"So we throw her a surprise party," he finished. "You know, it's a Saturday –"

"Also Flag Day," Casey added.

Devin shot Casey a look of irritation. "Like I was saying, it's a Saturday, so Buy More will close down early, and we can get the people she knows over here, and we can get… party stuff… and it'll be fun, right?"

Chuck was starting to breathe a little more normally. "Okay… so surprise party… good…"

Then he panicked again. "But what do I get her?!"

"Calm down, Chuck!" Ellie said. "Get her something simple. Something that says you care about her."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "So helpful."

"If you'd let me finish…" Ellie shot back. "Get her something that has a little bit of sentimentality. You know, she grew up Catholi-"

Her eyes went wide and she clapped her hands over her own mouth. "You didn't hear me say that," she mumbled through her hands.

"Yes I did," Chuck replied, the proverbial compact fluorescent lamp going on above his head. "And now I have an idea."

But then, reality struck. "No," he whispered. "I spent all my spare money on that goddamn computer!"

"Don't worry, dude, I'll spot you," Devin assured him.

"Devin, I'm thinking jewelry here."

"Seriously dude, it's good. My annual gross income is more than you and Major Casey here put together."

Casey gave him a dirty look, but Chuck was too grateful to register the sideways insult. "Thanks, Devin," he breathed. "You're awesome."

"Dude. I know."

* * *

By 9:30, when Devin and Chuck left, Ellie had been up and on the phone, trying to get things arranged. And now, just before 10:00, the two men were waiting patiently outside Ben Bridge Jewelers at the Glendale Galleria, waiting for it to open.

Finally, the gates began to scroll upward. Chuck strode rapidly into the store.

"Hello, zir, how may I azzizt you?" called a very short man with an odd European accent.

"I need to get something for my girlfriend," Chuck replied. "Today's her birthday."

"Ah, a caze of having vorgotten one'z girlvriend'z birthday, yez?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Alright, zir, vat did you have in mind?"

"Something simple. Not too ostentatious, but something nice."

"Ah, perhapz a pendant of zome zort?"

"Yeah… oh, yeah, she had a religious background as a kid, too. Like, she's not involved with the church now…"

"…but it'z alvayz nize to have a reminder of von'z childhood, yez?"

Chuck nodded.

"Vell, zen, I zink I may have juzt ze right thing," the man said. Opening a case behind him, he pulled out a long blue box.

He laid it on the counter in front of Chuck, and opened it. "Here ve have a vite gold crozz, on a gold chain, vith an alexandrite – ze birthztone ov June – gem in ze zenter, and a zmall diamond at each tip."

"That's quite a piece of jewelry right there," Devin said.

"Yes, it certainly is," Chuck replied, "and it's pretty much perfect. How much?"

"It juzt zo happenz zat it iz on clearanze," the man purred. "Vor you, one hundred zeventy dollarz."

'That's it?" Chuck said incredulously. He looked over at Devin. "I can actually afford that on my own!"

"Awesome."

* * *

Ellie was waiting in her car at the end of the block. As soon as she saw Sarah's car round the corner, she started her own up and flew down the street. She parked right next to Sarah.

"Hi Ellie!" Sarah said with a smile as Ellie got out of her car.

"Sarah!" Ellie replied, coming round the end of Sarah's car to give the other woman a hug.

"So, what do you and Chuck have planned for tonight?" Ellie asked.

"I have no idea," Sarah said. "He wouldn't tell me!"

"I'm sure it'll be great," Ellie replied, trying very hard not to smile.

The apartment was dark as they approached. "That's weird," Sarah mused. "Chuck said he'd be here."

Ellie didn't say anything, just unlocked the door and swung it open –

"SURPRISE!"

Sarah's eyes went wide in shock, and she reflexively reached behind her back for her gun, but she relaxed quickly as soon as she realized what was going on.

She spotted Chuck in the center of the room. Shaking her head and smiling, she approached him.

"Alright, how'd you figure it out?" she asked. "I know Casey doesn't know, and I also know that Graham and Beckman both refused to tell you."

"Oh, I heard from a little birdie… a Larkin, if you will."

"And whose idea was the surprise party?"

"Believe it or not, that was Devin. I was freaking out at about three this morning, and he had this epiphany. Ellie threw it all together – really, they just told me to stay out of the way, get you some sort of gift, and they'd take care of everything else."

And so they had. There were about a dozen people there – Casey, most of the Nerd Herd, a couple of Ellie and Devin's friends who had a passing acquaintance with Sarah. The apartment was decorated, there was a rather large cake – "HAPPY 26TH, SARAH!" it boldly proclaimed. At Casey's insistence, the cake was decorated like an American flag, because it was Flag Day.

"This is fantastic," Sarah said. "My last birthday, I was in some hell hole in east Asia. This year? I'm in Los Angeles, with friends and the closest thing I've had to a family in years.

"Now," she continued, "what about this gift?"

"It's in my bedroom," Chuck replied.

Sarah smiled. "Chuck, I'm sure that particular gift can wait till later."

Chuck's eyebrows went up. "Feeling a little naughty, are we, Agent Walker?" he asked. "Seriously, though, your gift actually is in my bedroom."

Taking her by the hand, he led her back to the bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he handed her the blue box.

Looking at him curiously, she opened the box. Seeing what was in it, her eyes widened a little, and a small gasp escaped her mouth.

She lifted the pendant from the box, watching the hue of the alexandrite change from green to red and back again as it caught different angles of light. "Chuck, this is beautiful," she breathed. "I haven't had a cross… in years."

Chuck didn't say anything, just took the chain from her hands. He detached the clasp, then brought the two halves together behind her neck, reattaching the clasp. The pendant settled on her chest, just above the v-cut of her shirt.

He left his hands behind her neck, and drew her close to him, kissing her softly. She responded by embracing him, then breaking the kiss off and just letting him hold her for a little while.

* * *

"Where's Bartowski?" Casey wanted to know.

"I think I saw him head this way," Morgan replied, heading back toward Chuck's bedroom. Casey followed – but so did Anna.

"You might not want to go in there," she warned, as Morgan put his hand on the doorknob.

"Oh, right," he whispered, his eyes widening. But he didn't go anywhere. Instead, he crouched down by the door, his ear pressed against it, trying to hear what was going on.

"What are you doing, Grimes?!" Casey hissed. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he crept up to the door, pressing his ear against it. Soon enough, Anna had joined them by the door as well.

Then, completely without warning, it opened. Chuck stood there in the doorway, his mouth gaping.

Finally, he spoke.

"You are all sick, sick people."


	8. Chuck vs Pacific Bean

_**Author's Note: **__Before I begin, I'd like to thank an individual known to me only as __**SharpAsAMarble**__ for making me laugh so hard that I had a coughing fit which almost made me fall out of my chair._

_As far as the story itself goes, you might want to re-read Chapter 3 to refresh yourself on a dream that Sarah had at the beginning of that chapter before reading this chapter._

_In addition, for those of you who are unaware, I am sometimes also considered a Terrifying Monkey (hint, hint)._

* * *

**The following excerpt comes from the end of "The Star-Spangled Intersect".**

Chuck awoke slowly, the shaft of light playing across his face. He tried to burrow under the covers to block out the offending sunlight, but to no avail, as an agent of true evil pulled the comforter off of his head.

"Good morning, sunshine," Sarah said with a laugh. "Happy fourth of July, oh America's greatest intelligence asset."

"America's greatest intelligence asset wants to SLEEP," he grumbled.

"Not a chance!" she replied with a giggle, starting to tickle him.

"GAH!" he shouted, trying to roll away, and succeeding merely in rolling directly off the side of the bed, tangled in the duvet.

His only consolation was that Sarah was so entangled in the duvet that she came rolling off the bed with him, landing fairly softly on top of him. He had no complaints about that. He had come to live for her touch, the soft feel of her skin against his, the unevenness of the fading scars on her shoulder and abdomen.

He loved the scent of her hair, the taste of her lips against his, the way she looked into his eyes. He especially loved it when she teased him, like she was doing right now.

"Well, I think that since you're such a national treasure, and I'm a national intelligence officer, we really should celebrate our country's freedom in an… EXPLOSIVE fashion," she said, a naughty undertone to her voice, as she shifted her weight further down his body.

"I fully agree," Chuck replied, a gasp slipping out at the end of his sentence.

Not too long after that – Chuck was, after all, a man, and not a machine – Sarah was in the shower, and Chuck was on the balcony of their hotel room. He had no idea how she'd gotten the CIA to splurge for an ocean view hotel room in San Diego for the Fourth of July, but he wasn't complaining. He enjoyed watching the ships come in to the bay… although, that one…

A blur of images flew by in his mind – a case of Stinger missiles, a briefcase full of cash, blueprints of the MV _Pacific Voyager_, a mugshot of a rather unhappy looking Argentinean, and… a piece of carrot cake.

His eyes went wide, and he shook his head. "Good Lord!" he gasped. "They're going to try to get those missiles to a sleeper cell in San Diego and shoot down aircraft at MCAS Miramar!"

Chuck ran back into the hotel room and walked into the bathroom without knocking.

"Sarah!" he said, as he entered.

She stuck her head out of the shower, a playful grin on her face. "Are you ready for round two – Chuck? What is it?"

"I just flashed on a ship in the harbor," he replied. "Stinger missiles on board, headed for a sleeper cell here in the city."

Sarah's eyes went wide. She shut off the shower, reached out, and grabbed a towel. She wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the shower.

"Alright, give Casey a call. I'll get ready as quick as I can. We're going to probably need to head down and intercept the shipment."

She turned and looked at him. "And Chuck, please. I don't want you to get hurt. Would you please, just this once…"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll stay in the car."

**And now, the conclusion.**

* * *

_Two days earlier_

"So, Comic-Con this year, Chuck?"

"Oh, without a doubt. We've got to go. I know I've got Devin talked into doing it, I think I've got Ellie talked into it, and I just need to work on Sarah a little bit."

"Chuck, she's pretty formidable."

"Oh, I have my ways, Morgan."

"Dude… way too much information. Seriously."

"Oh, which is why you were outside my door trying to listen on her birthday. You, and Anna, and Casey of all people."

Morgan waved his hands in front of him. "Uh-uh, we aren't talking about that. So, you and Sarah gonna go as Han Solo and Princess Leia, like that convention in Redondo Beach?"

Chuck shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't know know who Sarah's gonna go as, but I'm not going as Han Solo. There'll be a thousand Han Solos there, and I want to stand out a bit. I figure I've got three weeks to decide."

"Don't procrastinate, Chuck. You know what they say. Procrastination is like masturbation – it's all fun and games, but in the end, you're just screwing yourself."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Thank you, O Wise One."

"At your service," Morgan replied, bowing deeply.

"GRIMES!"

"Shit."

Morgan ran as Big Mike came barreling up to the Nerd Herd desk. "For God's sake, Bartowski, would you stop encouraging his delinquency? He needs to be selling very expensive pieces of electronic crap, not shooting the breeze with you!"

"Sorry, Big Mike."

"Don't be sorry, Bartowski, do something about it! You know very well that I want to recommend you for the assistant manager position, but if this keeps up, I'm gonna recommend John Casey."

The blood drained from Chuck's face. "Oh God."

"Yeah, oh God. He'll run this place like a military organization. You thought Harry Tang was bad? Just wait until John Casey is your supervisor."

Chuck's head swiveled slowly to the right. He could see Casey standing about thirty feet away, arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile on his face.

"Chuck!"

He heard his name called from a little distance. Turning, he could see Sarah, outfitted for work, bouncing toward him, like she always did when she wore the skirt and the lederhosen. He had asked her more than once not to do that to him when he was at work, and her response had been to do it even more flagrantly.

"Hey, Sar-"

"BARTOWSKI!"

Chuck's head whipped back around to Big Mike. "I am talking to you!"

Big Mike focused his attention on Sarah. "And as for you, Wiener Girl, you spend so much of your damn time in this store distracting my employees, and you never buy a damn thing. So the least you can do is keep your mouth shut long enough for me to finish reaming your little boy toy. Capisce?"

It was clear that Sarah had not been spoken to in a manner like that in a very long time, even by the powers that be at the CIA. Her eyebrows went up, her fists started to clench, and she went from a casual stance to almost a combat stance before a sharp whistle distracted her.

Her head snapped to the right, where she saw Casey glaring daggers at her. He shook his head once.

Sarah gritted her teeth, narrowed her eyes, and stood down. Meanwhile, Big Mike turned his attention back to Chuck.

"So, Bartowski… um… that's all! Get Grimes to shape up, or Casey's gonna be your boss!"

He was about to walk away when he turned back to Chuck. "And if your girlfriend ever, EVER interrupts me chewing you out again, I'll smack you over the head with my marlin two or three times!"

Chuck's jaw dropped in disbelief. He turned toward Sarah. Waiting until Big Mike was out of earshot, he hissed, "The whole damn world's against me!"

Sarah smiled. "Not the whole world."

"Really," Chuck replied. "And what part of the world ISN'T against me? Big Mike's reaming me, Casey might become my boss… that sounds pretty bad!"

"The part that isn't against you is the part that will be calling Big Mike in about fifteen minutes, telling him that you're needed at a Buy More in San Diego for the next five days."

Chuck looked almost sideways at Sarah. "A Buy More in San Diego? Do we have some mission down there?"

"Nooo…" Sarah drew out slowly. "You're taking a vacation, Chuck. A stressed-out, burnt-out Intersect is almost as useless to the Company as no Intersect at all.

"That," she said, "and I guess the CIA feels like it owes you after your intelligence managed to prevent Senator McCain's bus from being hit by those extremists."

"So, I'm going on vacation?"

Sarah nodded and smiled again. "Yes, you are. After Big Mike sends you home, go home, pack, and I'll meet you there around two."

Chuck smiled back. "That sounds most excellent, Ms. Walker."

"I'll see you then, Mr. Bartowski."

And sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, Big Mike emerged from his office, a perplexed look on his face. "Bartowski!" he called.

Chuck walked over to him. "Yes, Big Mike?"

"Buy More down at Mission Plaza in San Diego called up here… they need a Nerd Herd type down there, this afternoon, and they specifically asked for you."

Chuck was quite pleased.

* * *

The two days they had been down here so far had been quite pleasant. It was a beautiful time of year to be in San Diego, the beaches were absolutely fantastic, and though Chuck would say that the highlight of the vacation had been all the time he'd gotten to spend with Sarah, he had to admit that the sex had been pretty mind-blowing as well.

Especially early last night down at Black's Beach.

Chuck smiled and tried to push the thought from his head as Sarah's Porsche headed south from La Jolla. They had terrorists to intercept, and he needed to be on top of his game. He knew this because there was far more armament on Sarah's belt than usual – extra clips, an extra gun, even grenades.

They were headed down to the harbor, set to intercept MV _Pacific Voyager_, grab its illicit cargo of Stinger missiles, and arrest some terrorists. Simple in theory, practically impossible to ever pull off without a hitch in reality.

And hitch number one was about to happen.

Sarah's phone rang. "Walker, secure," she said a moment after answering it.

She listened to whoever was on the other end, nodded, and then hung up. Without a word, she pressed the accelerator to the floor, making the Porsche fly down Interstate 5 at nearly double the legal limit.

"_Pacific Voyager_ has turned east," she explained to Chuck. "They think they're going to try to drop the cargo just off Pacific Beach, and have somebody bring it ashore there."

"Lovely," Chuck muttered as the Porsche flew off the freeway at Garnet Avenue.

Sarah activated a feature of her Porsche that Chuck had never known existed before – the police lights and siren built into the grille. With lights flashing and siren wailing, she practically flew the block down Mission Bay Drive to Garnet, powerslid at a ninety degree angle to the road, and headed down Garnet, hardly missing a beat.

Chuck could see helicopters out over the water at the end of Garnet. One seemed to be buzzing something at low altitude. Sarah's phone rang again.

"Walker, secure." This call was brief. She hung up. "Shit."

"Now what?"

"_Pacific Voyager_ has increased speed," she replied. "They think the crew is going to try to beach her on Pacific Beach. This could get really ugly, really quick."

Sure enough, the helicopters changed course, heading over the Pacific Beach neighborhood. Even from several blocks away, Chuck could hear the announcement coming over their loudspeakers.

"_This is the Department of Homeland Security. Please stay inside your homes or places of business. Please stay off the streets and do not exit the building you are in until you receive an all-clear from the San Diego Police Department_."

"Well, if that wasn't a recipe for chaos, I don't know what is," Chuck muttered.

And indeed, the closer they got, the more chaotic things got. People were running screaming down the street, trying to get into locked buildings. Abandoned cars littered Garnet. Sarah had to carefully pick her way between them, till finally she came to what essentially amounted to a roadblock just west of Mission Boulevard.

Sarah pulled the car over to the side of the street. "Chuck… please," was all she said.

He nodded as she got out of the car.

Nothing happened for a moment – and then, a group of eight men ran up from the beach, weapons in hand, two of them toting a crate between them. Sarah crouched down behind the cars blocking the road, sighted on one of the men, and fired.

He dropped like a sack of the potatoes. The other men stopped, and immediately began firing.

Sarah threw herself flat on the ground, but tripped as she did so. From Chuck's point of view, it looked like she had been hit.

His eyes went wide as saucers, and his heart stood still. "Sarah?" he whispered.

Time seemed to come to a stop. _To hell with the rules_, he thought. Flinging the car door open, he grabbed the spare gun out of Sarah's glove box, and got out of the car.

As he did so, he could see Sarah starting to get up. "Sarah!" he shouted.

She turned and saw him. As she did, time seemed to stand still for her as well.

It was the dream she had had four and a half months ago, come to life.

Chuck was out of the car. This was a bad thing. There were men with large guns, firing them in their general direction.

"CHUCK!" she screamed, desperate to be heard over the gunfire. "I'm going to distract them! As soon as I take their attention off you, I want you to run!"

"No way, Sarah, I'm not leaving you alone!"

"CHUCK! I can handle this!"

She reached down to her belt, and grabbed a flash-bang grenade – and just held it for a moment. This was playing out exactly like the dream.

She pulled the pin, and said a small prayer to a God she hadn't believed in for years. "Please, God, please, let him run the other direction."

Sarah heaved the grenade toward the bad guys. "GO, CHUCK, GO!" she screamed.

Chuck turned tail and ran out of the street, diving through the open door of a coffee shop as the grenade went off. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.

And then, the van pulled up behind her. "DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY!" somebody shouted. Sarah decided it was time for her to vacate the scene.

She dived through the door of the same coffee shop that Chuck had gone into – _The Pacific Bean_, the door said. Finding him behind the counter, she crouched down next to him.

"Why the hell did you get out of the car?" she demanded as the terrorists completely lost their nerve and surrendered to Homeland Security outside.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I thought I saw you get hit, and I –"

He didn't say any more. He just grabbed her and hugged her tightly, like he was never going to let go.

She knew she should be angry. But she couldn't be. She felt the anger melt out of her as he held her, and she wrapped her arms around him.

They stayed behind the counter for about twenty minutes before Homeland Security called an "All clear!"

With a mutual sigh of relief, they both got up from behind the counter and stood in the store. "Hey," Chuck said, noticing something totally tangential to the situation. "They only serve fairly traded coffee here!"

As Sarah looked at him like he'd lost his mind, an employee came out from a back room to stand behind the counter. "Uh, excuse me, folks?"

Neither Sarah nor Chuck had heard him approach, and they both whirled toward him, guns coming up in both their hands – _Good reflexes, Chuck_, Sarah thought, realizing he had the gun from her glove box.

The employee's eyes went wide. Chuck and Sarah both realized that he wasn't a threat, and their guns dropped. "C-can I g-get you s-something?" the employee stuttered through teeth chattering in fear.

"Actually, yeah," Chuck replied, handing his gun to Sarah. "I'd like to get a large Black Forest ice blended mocha."

"Chuck!"

"Oh, come on, Sarah," Chuck said, turning his gaze on her and setting the puppy dog eyes to full stun.

She sighed. "Oh, alright."


	9. Chuck vs Comic Con

"There were, in that part of the country known as Southern California, geeks, abiding in the city of Los Angeles.

"And when twenty-three days of the month of July had been accomplished, they did mount up on the Pontiac G6 that did belong to the one known as Eleanor Bartowski, and the Porsche Boxster that did belong to the one known as Sarah Walker, and they did embark upon a journey to the city of San Diego.

"For lo, in those waning days of July, the organization known as Comic-Con International did host in the city of San Diego a convention, known as Comic-Con, which was to be to all people.

"And when these geeks had heard the good word of Comic-Con, they went henceforth to San Diego, in order that they might see this thing that had come to pass.

"And when they came up on the city of San Diego, they found the Comic-Con –"

"I swear to God, if you say 'wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger,' you're going straight to hell, Chuck."

"- wrapped in shiny paper and lying in the San Diego Convention Center, just as the Internet had foretold."

Sarah Walker rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You know, Chuck, if you're going to commit blasphemy, I'd appreciate it if you didn't do it in my car, so that when God decides to smite you, I'm not collateral damage."

Chuck Bartowski's face took on a look of mock innocence. "Blasphemy? ME? Never! How could you say such a thing?"

Sarah tried very hard not to smile, and found herself failing. "I will admit, the fact that you were able to take that whole passage of Scripture and turn it into something completely different just off-the-cuff like that WAS pretty impressive."

She stopped, and re-evaluated.

"Actually, no. I take that back. It was just further proof of how big a nerd you are."

"I'M a nerd?" Chuck protested. "At least I told you who I'm dressing up as tomorrow!"

"Hey, if Casey isn't going to tell, then I'm not going to tell, either."

The fact that Casey was along was a small miracle in and of itself – or at least, that's what everybody thought except for Casey himself. The reality of the situation was that when General Beckman had heard that the whole group was going to Comic-Con, she'd nearly hit the roof, and ordered Casey to go with them, an order with which Casey had very grudgingly complied.

As far as that first night went, different members of the little group had different plans. Chuck, Morgan, and Devin were going to the preview session – Ed Brubaker, the comic-book writer who had killed off Captain America, was going to be doing a special Q&A that night. Ellie and Sarah planned to go down to the Gaslamp Quarter and find a nice wine bar or two. Casey had already made clear his intentions to go over to NAS North Island and visit the shooting range.

"Lame," Chuck had complained, rolling his eyes.

That was the thing about Comic-Con, though – Chuck, Morgan, and Devin were all huge comic book nerds, and they had gone every year since Chuck had gotten the boot from Stanford. After all, Chuck needed somebody to go to Comic-Con at that point, since he then despised Bryce Larkin.

It was one of the highlights of Chuck's year, and while it would probably not make the top three this year, like it did most years, he was still getting visibly excited as the San Diego Marriott – the hotel connected to the convention center, the hotel where the CIA had managed to get them rooms – came into view.

"Calm down, Chuck," Sarah said, a note of amusement in her voice.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I just can't help it."

He practically cheered with glee when they walked into the lobby and he saw the "Welcome Comic-Con" banner. Sarah was pleased to see that he at least restrained himself to simply sharing high-fives with Devin and Morgan.

Six hours later, when Sarah and Ellie returned to the hotel from their Gaslamp Quarter adventures – both of them a little tipsy – they found Chuck, Devin, and Morgan having a passionate argument about whether or not Christopher Nolan based _Batman Begins_ and _The Dark Knight_ on the "Batman: Year One" comics.

"He has made it quite clear that he didn't," Chuck insisted.

"But look at the elements, Chuck," Morgan replied. "Almost every subtle plot detail from _Batman Begins_ shows up in one of the Year One books!"

"He's right, Chuckster," Devin said, taking Morgan's side.

"Plot details do not mean that _Batman Begins_ equals Year One!" Chuck practically shouted back.

"Boys, boys, boys," Ellie giggled, the wine talking JUST a bit. "It's not THAT important, is it?"

The three looked at her like she'd just said the pledge of allegiance to Osama Bin Laden. "You have no idea, babe," Devin practically growled.

"Well, then, why don't you take me up to the room and… explain it to me," she said.

Devin's eyes widened. "Uh… gents… shall we continue this discussion, say, over breakfast?"

Morgan looked lost, but Chuck just nodded. "Night, Devin."

As Ellie practically dragged Devin out of the lobby, Morgan turned to look at Chuck. "Wow. That was awfully… um, suggestive."

"Yes, well," Chuck replied. "Alcohol, and all that. Now, seriously. I still don't think that Year One –"

"Chuck," Sarah interrupted him. "I don't think you'd want Devin to miss any of this discussion, would you?"

Chuck didn't get the hint. "Sarah, I can't just go to bed and leave this issue hanging."

Sarah sighed. Leaning over, she whispered something in Chuck's ear. His eyes widened.

"Well… THAT was virtually unspeakable," he said. "Uh, Morgan, I gotta go…"

Chuck practically ran out of the lobby, a giggling and tipsy Sarah trailing in his wake.

Morgan was left by himself in the lobby. "Lame," he muttered.

Standing, he too headed for the elevators. "Guess I'll go see what the hotel has on the pay channels."

* * *

The next morning, when the alarm clock went off, Sarah practically launched herself out of bed, and before Chuck had even oriented himself to the fact that he was no longer asleep, she was in the bathroom, her duffel bag with her.

"What the heck…" he muttered.

He shook his head. "She must REALLY want this to be a surprise."

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and hitting the "start" button on the coffee maker, he stepped in front of the sink. He brushed his teeth, then looked at his face. He consciously made the decision not to shave, and then got out the heavy duty gel.

"This is going to require some serious glue to keep this style," he said to himself. Loading his hands up with the gel, he rubbed it through his hair until it was practically coated in the gel. Then, with a comb, he styled it until it was JUST perfect.

Turning to the closet, he pulled out his outfit. The brown cargo shirt went on first, followed by the rather tight tan pants. Next was the strap-up black boots and the leather gun belt, with an Airsoft revolver in the holster. The final touch was the brown suede full-length overcoat.

Chuck stepped in front of the mirror and looked himself up and down. "Nathan Fillion, eat your heart out," he mused, quite pleased with how he looked.

Then the door clicked open. He turned to see Sarah step out –

Her hair was pulled back in a very tight bun, and she was wearing what amounted to a skin-tight metallic purple one-piece outfit. She was wearing short black boots –

"No WAY," Chuck gasped, but his thoughts were confirmed as Sarah attached a Starfleet emblem just above her left breast.

She looked at him, then cocked an eyebrow. "Greetings, Captain Reynolds," she monotoned. "I am Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One."

Chuck shook his head, a huge, almost teenage grin appearing on his face. "I do not believe it. You, a Trekkie?!"

Sarah broke character. "Yeah, I was a huge _Voyager_ fan when I was in high school," she admitted. "Hard to believe, I know."

There was a knock on the door. Chuck pulled it open to discover Morgan standing there.

Morgan's eyes practically bugged out of his head when he saw Sarah. "Holy…"

Sarah looked at him, going back to the monotone. "Is there a problem, uh…"

She broke character as she realized she had no idea who he was supposed to be. "Who are you supposed to be, Morgan?"

Chuck looked at her with a _have you lost your mind_ sort of look. "He's dressed in the uniform of the Gotham City Police Department, he has chief's insignia, and the name on his uniform is 'Gordon'. He is OBVIOUSLY Commissioner Jim Gordon!"

Sarah held up her hands in surrender. "So-rry!"

At that moment, Ellie and Devin made their entrance. "Whoa!" Devin exclaimed when he saw Sarah. Ellie gave him a look, then smacked him in the back of the head.

Chuck studied them. "You know, I almost feel like I know who you're supposed to be, but I'm not quite sure…"

His voice trailed off as Sarah began to mock him. "Well, Ellie's dyed her hair blonde, Devin has somehow managed to look angsty and brooding, and they're both wearing Sunnydale High School t-shirts. I'd say it's pretty clear that they're Buffy Summers and Angel."

Chuck rolled his eyes, but moved on. "So where's Casey?"

"Haven't seen him," Morgan replied. "We're gonna be late, though. He can catch up."

It wasn't long till they found Casey, though. In fact, when their elevator reached the lobby, and the door opened, there he was –

Wearing a royal blue button down shirt, black slacks with suspenders, black quicklace boots, an oversized Bluetooth earpiece, and a World War II era navy blue greatcoat with United States Army Air Corps markings.

Chuck and Morgan both started laughing uproariously, while the other three looked at them like they'd lost their minds.

"What the hell is your problem, Bartowski?" Casey asked testily.

"I'm sorry, Casey, I'm so sorry, I just never thought I'd see the day when you'd dress up like Captain Jack Harkness," Chuck replied, trying not to choke as he laughed.

"What's wrong with that?" Casey asked. "First of all, the Bluetooth earpiece is functional, secondly, so is the gun, thirdly, Captain Harkness is pretty much a badass who likes to shoot his gun off a lot."

"Casey, he also has sex with men," Morgan said.

Casey's eyes went wide. Ellie nodded. "And the Republican in you comes out to play," she muttered.

The look on Casey's face went from one of determination to one of defeat. "Hell," he groaned, "does this mean that I'm going to be followed around by fanboys all day?"

Chuck tried not to smile, and failed miserably. "Probably," he laughed.

Casey bit back a growl, then pulled the gun out of his holster and swapped it with Chuck's Airsoft gun.

"The hell?!" Chuck asked.

"If I don't have a real gun, I can't SHOOT any of them."

* * *

By seven o'clock that evening, the whole group of them was exhausted. Devin and Ellie had gone off to take several "naps" – "Naps, my ass," Morgan had muttered, a little bit of the green monster still coming out to play.

Sarah and Casey had both ended up being followed around by groups of guys all day. However, they were very different groups of guys. Sarah's was mostly made up of nerdy older teenagers and guys in their younger twenties, dressed in Starfleet uniforms. Casey's was a pretty motley crew, though.

"Would somebody tell me exactly who I have following me NOW?" he demanded at one point.

Chuck turned around, did a quick count, and turned back to report. "Looks like you've got three Ianto Joneses – those are the guys in the three piece suits – four Doctor number Tens – those are the guys in the brown pinstripe suits – and one Doctor number Nine – the guy in the black leather."

Casey growled, and then without warning, pulled the Airsoft gun from his holster, whirling to aim it at the crowd following him. With shrieks of fear, they all scattered, save for one of the Ianto Jones impersonators.

Or was he? "Wait a second," Chuck whispered, as the man approached.

"That's not a real gun," he commented, walking toward John Casey. He had a distinctive Welsh accent. "By the way, my name's Gareth David-Lloyd. I play Ianto Jones on _Torchwood_, and I just wanted to compliment you on just how much you managed to make yourself look like Jack Harkness."

"Uh, thanks," Casey muttered, holstering the Airsoft. David-Lloyd turned his attention to Sarah.

"I have to say," he remarked, "were I ten years younger, I probably would've been in that other group of guys – the one that's been following you around, and every so often, one of them gets the courage to come up and take their picture with you."

Chuck turned to look at Sarah – and was shocked to see that she seemed to be totally captivated by David-Lloyd.

"Uh… would you like to take your picture with me?" she said, almost shyly.

His eyebrows went up, and then he smiled. "Why not."

Sarah dug in her purse, coming up with her digital camera, which she handed to Casey. He stepped back, and Gareth David-Lloyd stood beside Sarah, putting his arm around her waist. She giggled as he did so, and then Casey took the picture.

"Thank you so much," she whispered, turning almost into a fangirl before Chuck's very eyes.

Well, that was quite enough. "We should probably move along," he said loudly. "We're supposed to be meeting Ellie and Awesome, and I'm SURE Mr. David-Lloyd has other commitments."

"Sadly, yes," he said. "I have to meet John Barrowman and Eve Myles for dinner in about twenty minutes. But, it was a pleasure to meet you, Ms…"

"Walker," she practically giggled. "Sarah Walker."

Gareth David-Lloyd took her hand in his own, and lifted it to his lips, which he lightly brushed against her hand. "An absolute pleasure."

Sarah was speechless as he walked away. Casey looked over at Chuck and saw the disgusted look on his face.

"Oh, for God's sake, Bartowski," he said. "Are you going to stand there and tell me that you wouldn't react the same way if, let's say, Kristen Bell came up and introduced herself to you?"

And strangely enough, Chuck got just that opportunity later on when he turned a corner and almost ran Kristen Bell over. When she recovered from almost being trampled, she practically squee'd at what she called "the sexiest transport captain in the gorram 'verse" and demanded a picture with Chuck.

"Okay, now we're even," Chuck admitted to Sarah as they walked away. She just smiled and leaned in close, whispering something in his ear again.

He blushed bright red. "Okay, seriously, you've got to stop saying those things to me in public." His voice was a little bit louder than he intended due to his embarrassment, and it stopped Casey, Morgan, Ellie, and Devin in their tracks.

"What did she say, Chuck?" Morgan wanted to know.

Chuck got even redder, if that was possible. "Um… well you see, what she said was…"

And then, grabbing Sarah's wrist, he turned and made a break for it. Sarah, though a little surprised, seemed to be prepared for this eventuality, and took off after him.

"Bye!" she called over her shoulder as she ran down the convention center floor with Chuck.

The remaining days of Comic-Con were a blast. On the third day, Sarah insisted that Chuck dress up as Mal Reynolds again. The reason for that, to his surprise, was that she'd gone to The Buff up in Pacific Beach and managed to assemble for herself an outfit that, with dyed brown hair, actually made her look like a dead ringer for Inara Serra.

That had led to some things in their hotel room that the rest of the group definitely never, ever needed to know about.

The following Monday, Chuck was just about to leave for work when Morgan climbed in through the window. "Morning, Chuck," he said.

"Morning, Morgan."

Morgan looked around the room, and spotted the photo on the wall. "Hey, this is a pretty kickass picture," he said, looking at the framed eight-by-ten. "You as Mal Reynolds, Sarah as Seven of Nine, me as Jim Gordon, Devin and Ellie as Angel and Buffy, and Casey as Jack Harkness? We look like one hell of a crew."

"Yeah, but I like this one better," Chuck said, opening his wallet and tossing it to Morgan.

Morgan snatched it out of mid-air and looked at the photo. "You and Sarah as Mal and Inara? Yeah. Wow, actually…"

He looked up at his best friend. "You guys actually look really good together. You must…"

The words came hard. It was almost like letting go of something. "You must really be in love with each other."

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, Morgan. We are. In fact…"

He paused, as if carefully considering his words. But, if he couldn't be candid with Morgan, he couldn't be candid with anybody.

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me."


	10. Chuck vs Dad

Chuck opened his wallet and tossed it to Morgan.

Morgan snatched it out of mid-air and looked at the photo. "You and Sarah as Mal and Inara? Yeah. Wow, actually…"

He looked up at his best friend. "You guys actually look really good together. You must…"

The words came hard. It was almost like letting go of something. "You must really be in love with each other."

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, Morgan. We are. In fact…"

He paused, as if carefully considering his words. But, if he couldn't be candid with Morgan, he couldn't be candid with anybody.

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Morgan's mouth dropped open, like a beached fish trying to breathe. "You… what?"

"Why wouldn't I, Morgan?" Chuck mused. "I'm in love with her, she makes me incredibly happy… I just want to wake up every morning to find myself next to her."

"Whoa," Morgan breathed, trying to absorb it all. A hand to his forehead, he practically stumbled to the door and wrenched it open. "ELLIE!"

"Morgan, what are you do-"

Ellie came running into the room, cutting Chuck off. "Morgan? What's wrong?"

Morgan turned and looked at Chuck. "Tell her what you just told me. Don't leave anything out."

Chuck turned and looked at his sister. "I'm going to ask Sarah to marry me."

Ellie's eyes went wide, and then a smile plastered itself on her face. "Oh, Chuck!" she practically cried for joy, throwing herself at her brother and wrapping him in a big hug.

Then, almost as soon as she had embraced him, she backed off again. "Do you have a ring?" she asked.

"Uh, no," Chuck said. "I just made this decision in the last day or so."

"Come with me," Ellie demanded.

"Uh, Ellie, I kind of have to head for work pretty quick here. Can't this wait?"

"CHARLES BARTOWSKI."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chuck followed Ellie into the bedroom she shared with Devin. Ellie opened the jewelry box on her dresser and pulled out a small silver ring. She turned and handed it to Chuck.

"This was the ring that Dad gave to Mom when he asked her to marry him," she said softly. "I found it in my jewelry box after she left us. She left it with me, and I'd like to think it was for something like this."

Chuck just stared at it. The ring was simple, but elegant. The silver needed a little polishing, but the diamond still gleamed like the day it was cut.

Ellie took the ring back out of his hand. "I'll figure out a way to get Sarah's ring size, and then I'll get it sized," she said.

"Ellie, you don't have to-"

"I'm your sister, Chuck, don't argue with me on this. Next. Have you asked her father?"

Chuck looked at his sister with a look he might have given a small child. "Ellie, you know I can't-"

She held a finger up to her lips as Morgan, having finally collected his wits, joined them in the bedroom.

"You've got to figure something out, Chuck. Devin at least did the courtesy of asking you before he popped the question, yes?"

"True, but –"

"No buts, Chuck. This is something you've got to do."

Chuck sighed deeply. "Alright."

* * *

John Casey had just finished moving yet another BeastMaster Grill – his tenth, by his count – when Chuck came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He whirled around, ready for a rumble, till he realized it was just Bartowski. "Dammit," he gritted through his teeth, "how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

"I need to ask a favor," Chuck said, skipping over all the apologies and the greeting, something that Casey found odd.

"What?"

"I need to somehow get in touch with Sarah's father."

Casey gave him a strange look. "What would you possibly need to talk to her father about?"

Then it dawned on Casey. "No. Not a chance."

"Casey, you're the only person I know who could possibly talk Beckman or Graham into getting me clearance without telling Sarah."

"I cannot and will not do it, Bartowski."

He turned to walk away.

"Casey."

There was just something about Chuck's tone of voice – maybe a touch of desperation, maybe a touch of determination – that stopped Casey in his tracks. He turned back toward Chuck.

"Please. This is possibly the most important thing I have ever done in my life, and I want to do it right."

Casey looked back at Chuck for a very long moment. Finally, he said, "I'll make a call. But I can't make any promises."

"As long as you make the call. Thank you."

* * *

Chuck's phone rang at 5:00 AM. He groaned, and rolled over. "Number unknown," the phone said.

"What the hell…" He sighed, and pushed the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Bartowski, this is General Beckman. If Walker is there, say, 'Yes, ma'am, I am the Nerd Herd Herder on call'."

"Yes, ma'am, I am the Nerd Herd Herder on call."

"Alright. Major Casey called me and said you needed to get in touch with Agent Walker's father."

Chuck thought quickly. "Yes, ma'am, it sounds like you're getting the correct information from your server."

Beckman was quiet for a moment. "Not bad, Bartowski. Listen carefully. Tell Agent Walker that you've been called on a Nerd Herd call. Major Casey will be at your apartment in five minutes. He'll pick you up and take you to Los Angeles International Airport. From there, you will take American Airlines flight 222 to Boston. You will be met in Boston by NSA agents, and receive further instructions at that time."

"Alright, ma'am, that sounds like it's going to be a full day job. I'll need to get in touch with my support staff, but we'll be there as soon as possible."

He disconnected. Rolling over, he saw Sarah looking at him through sleepy eyes.

"Nerd Herd call?"

"Yeah," Chuck replied. "It's a massive web hosting server crash down in Newport Beach. I'm probably gonna be gone all day, and not be back till pretty late."

"Aww," Sarah complained. She sighed. "Oh well. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah," Chuck confirmed as he got out of the bed.

He was ready to go within two minutes, kissed Sarah good-bye, and headed out the door. Casey was waiting for him.

"Let's go, Bartowski."

* * *

When the flight landed in Boston, Casey and Chuck were met personally by General Beckman. "How was the flight?"

"Not bad," Chuck said, settling back in the back seat of the NSA Suburban. "Although…"

"Yes, Bartowski?"

"I'm a little disturbed with how easily I was able to lie to Sarah this morning."

General Beckman sighed. "Bartowski… Chuck… listen to me. Lying to her about this does not make you a bad person. It does not make you any more corrupt. You're doing this because you love her, right?"

Chuck nodded.

"Then she will understand, especially since it will give her the chance to talk to her father for the first time in years."

"I hope you're right," Chuck said.

General Beckman changed the subject. "There are certain things you need to know about Agent Walker's father. First of all, do you know her real name yet?"

"Yes," Chuck replied. "Elizabeth Lisa Reynolds."

Casey looked over at him. "No shit."

"Forget you ever heard that, Major," General Beckman ordered. "Alright. Agent Walker's father. Marcus Lind Reynolds. Sergeant Major, United States Army, retired. He served in Operation Desert Storm, came back with a pretty severe case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It got worse, and worse, and then, when his wife died in 2001, something snapped in his mind, and he now suffers from a selective sort of amnesia."

She paused for a moment. "Basically, anything that he perceives as negative, his mind blocks out. This includes the fact that his daughter is serving in the Central Intelligence Agency. As far as he is concerned, six months after his wife died, his daughter dropped out of U-Mass and moved away from home. He hasn't heard from her since except for the occasional postcard."

"My God," Chuck whispered.

"Elizabeth Reynolds was an only child. Before she left home and became Sarah Walker, she set up a trust fund to put her father into a home where he would be very well taken care of. And that is where we are headed now."

Chuck nodded. He was silent the rest of the way.

* * *

The convalescent home was located in the Beacon Hill neighborhood of Boston. It was housed in a very large mansion that must have been close to three hundred years old.

When they entered, General Beckman asked to see Sergeant Major Reynolds. The attendant told them that he was in the common area, and showed them the way.

"Sergeant Major Reynolds?" the attendant said as they came up behind a balding man who, despite what Chuck had been told about him, still looked to be in fairly good physical health.

He turned around, and seeing General Beckman's uniform, leapt to his feet. "OFFICER ON DECK!" he called out. Three other men in the room jumped up and snapped to attention, just like Reynolds.

"At ease, men," she said. The men all relaxed and returned to their seats.

"Sergeant Major Reynolds?" Beckman asked.

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"I'm General Beckman," she said. "I'm with the United States Air Force."

"Mark Reynolds," he replied.

"This is Major John Casey, also USAF," Beckman continued, indicating Casey, "and this is Chuck Bartowski. He's here to talk to you about your daughter."

His eyes went wide. "Elizabeth? Is there something wrong with my Beth?"

"No sir," Chuck replied, shaking his head. "She's actually a friend of mine. Well…"

He paused. How was he going to explain the whole situation to a man with selective memory loss?

He decided the truth was the best option. "She's more than a friend," Chuck said. "I'm in love with her."

Reynolds' eyebrow went up. "REA-lly."

"Yes, sir," Chuck replied. "I met her about ten months ago. We were originally… co-workers… and we became friends, and then we became more than that, and we fell in love with each other."

Reynolds studied Chuck's face for a moment. "Where do you live, son?" he asked.

"Los Angeles," Chuck replied.

"Hmmm," Reynolds mused. "You didn't fly all the way across the country for no reason."

He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "You want to ask me for my permission to marry my daughter, don't you?"

Chuck's mouth went dry. "Uh… yes, sir, yes, yes I do."

Mark Reynolds nodded. "You said you love her."

"Yes, sir."

"Will you take care of her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you provide for her?"

"Absolutely, sir."

"Will you be faithful to her and remain with her no matter what?"

"Of course."

"How much does she mean to you?"

"Sir, she means more than anything else in the world."

"Does she mean more to you than your country?"

Chuck froze. How did he answer that? How did he answer that question in front of two people who had dedicated their lives to protecting the United States and a third who had fought in battle on America's behalf?

Again, he decided the truth was the best course.

"Sir, I am proud to be an American, and there's no where else I'd rather live. But if it came down to a choice between… Elizabeth… and America, I would choose her."

Reynolds just looked back at him for a moment. Then, to Chuck's surprise, he started nodding.

"Good answer, son, good answer. God knows I wish I had made that choice with Elizabeth's mother. But I didn't. I neglected my marriage for the Army… even after they diagnosed me with that PTSD crap…

He was beginning to get choked up. His eyes filled with tears, and his voice became rough. "And I still remember to this day the day I came home and found her, the half-empty bottle of Ambien on the nightstand… they tell me I don't remember most of the bad things in my life, but…"

His voice broke. "That is something I pray to God every day I could forget, but I never will."

Chuck realized he'd been holding his breath, and let it out. He looked at Beckman and Casey, and realized that Casey's fists were clenched, and Beckman's eyes were shining with tears.

It took Chuck a moment to find his voice. Finally, he said, "Sergeant Major Reynolds… I swear to you, your daughter means more than anything else to me in the world. She is now, and will always be, the most important thing in my life. I love her like nobody else, and nothing will ever be a higher priority."

Mark Reynolds looked at Chuck. "Then, Mr. Bartowski, you have my permission and my blessing. I have just one request – could you please arrange for me to speak to her on the phone?"

Chuck nodded. "Absolutely."

* * *

Chuck and Casey were on American Airlines flight 223 out of Boston's Logan Airport, headed back to Los Angeles. The flight landed just before ten P.M.

Casey drove Chuck back to the apartment complex, but as soon as Casey was inside his apartment, Chuck got into the Herder, and drove to Sarah's building in downtown. He headed upstairs, and went to her room.

He was about to knock on her door when his phone rang. "Shit!" he hissed.

Chuck pressed the answer button and very quietly, said, "Hello?"

But it wasn't quiet enough. Sarah had heard the phone, and came to the door. "Chuck?" she said when she opened it. "I thought you weren't going to be back until later."

"Just a second," he said to her. He listened to the phone for a moment, and said, "Yes, absolutely. She's right here."

He handed her the phone. "It's for you."

Sarah looked at him with a puzzled look on her face, but she took the phone. "Hello?"

She was quiet for a moment, and then her eyes went wide, and almost immediately began to brim with tears.

"Hi, Daddy..."


	11. Chuck vs the Question

**August 12th**

"Let me ask you this. Would you torture a suspect to get information out of them if national security was at stake?"

"In a heartbeat."

"How about water boarding?"

Silence. Then:

"Are you somehow involved in all this?"

Chuck cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Sarah gave him a look so intense that Chuck was sure she'd penetrated his skull and burned through to the wall. "I mean, am I torturing somebody looking for you?"

Chuck nodded his head. "Why not."

"Then yes, I absolutely would. I would stick a suspect in the Superfry Death Machine if your life was at stake."

Chuck was quiet for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "Wow. Somehow I feel all warm and fuzzy and creeped out at the same time."

Sarah smiled sweetly. "That's what happens when your girlfriend's a trained CIA operative," she said.

But then, it hit Chuck. "Wait a second!" he practically shouted. "You called it the Superfry Death Machine!"

Sarah's face tightened. "No I didn't."

"Oh, yes, yes you did!" Chuck insisted. "You said you hate that name, but you've heard it so much that now you're using it!"

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but was saved from the argument continuing further by the bell on the door jingling as it opened.

"Guter nachmittag, und willk -"

Sarah stopped halfway through the greeting, and looked with disbelief at the Catholic priest who had just come in the door.

"FATHER MIKE?!"

"Sure, and don't let me interrupt yer greetin', Ms. Walker," he replied cheerfully, a distinct Irish accent flavoring his speech. "Pray, continue!"

Sarah not knowing what else to say, did just that. "Guter nachmittag, und willkomen zu Wienerlicious," she said, a tone of disbelief in her voice.

"Thank you kindly," the priest said. "And God bless all here."

"God bless you kindly," Sarah replied, so automatically that Chuck knew it either had to be something liturgical, or a code phrase.

Turned out it was the completion of a code phrase, as the priest's features lit up. "Ah!" he exclaimed. "So yer friend here's Agency as well?"

Chuck spoke up for the first time since the priest had walked in the door. "What the heck is going on?"

"My goodness, and where's my manners," the priest said. "My dear mother would be spinnin' in her grave if she saw me."

He extended a hand toward Chuck. "Father Michael O'Halloran, Society of Jesus, and the Central Intelligence Agency."

Chuck extended his hand warily. "Chuck Bartowski," he replied, unsure of what else to say. Fortunately, Sarah saved him.

"Chuck's an Agency analyst," she informed O'Halloran. "He's also my boyfriend."

"Is that so!" O'Halloran said. "Well, that's a cause for rejoicing!"

Sarah turned to Chuck. "Father Mike was my parish priest when I was growing up," she told him. "He also happens to be the man who recruited me into the CIA."

Chuck was a bit confused. "So… if he's actually a CIA agent, does that mean he's not really a priest?"

O'Halloran looked shocked. "Sure and yer jokin', me lad," he said. "CIA or no, the Vatican will not allow a man to serve in a priesthood without having been through seminary and taken the vows! I am a priest of the Holy Church as surely as you're flesh and blood!"

"My apologies," Chuck backpedaled. "I can't say I'm particularly observant myself… I only really go to church on Christmas and Easter, and then, it's to a Lutheran church."

The Irish priest sighed. "Ah, well, nobody's perfect, and God surely loves ye just the same."

"So, Father Mike," Sarah interrupted, "what brings you to Los Angeles?"

"Ah, well," he replied, "I had a strong desire to escape the corruption and generally sinful atmosphere of the Boston Archdiocese, so I requested a transfer to another parish. That, and the CIA wanted me to keep an eye on ye – they said that yer protetcin' a particularly sensitive asset?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "That would be him," she said, indicating Chuck.

O'Halloran fixed her with a look of dismay. "Sure and yer not datin' yer asset!" he exclaimed. "Agent Walker, that goes against every rule in th' book!"

Then his gaze narrowed. "And be ye sleepin' with him as well, Agent Walker?"

Both Chuck and Sarah blushed approximately the same tone of red as the walls in the Wienerlicious. In fact, it was a rare speechless moment for Sarah, as she had absolutely no response.

"Yer livin' in sin, th' both of ye!" O'Halloran proclaimed. "Not only are ye violatin' every rule th' CIA has, but yer violatin' the laws of God as well!"

Sarah looked like she wanted to shrink into the floor, while Chuck was doing his absolute best to keep a straight face.

O'Halloran dug around in his pocket, and came out with a business card, which he handed to Sarah. "I'm sure it's been years since yer last confessional, Ms. Walker, so I expect ye to pay me a visit sooner, rather than later. I'm at Our Lady of th' Angels, which accordin' to the CIA, is yer parish."

He turned and fixed Chuck with a glare. "And as for ye, Mr. Bartowski…"

Father O'Halloran sighed. "I suppose I'll light a candle for ye, and pray that ye find yer way back to th' Lord before th' Lord finds ye."

He turned his attention back to Sarah. "'Twas good to see ye, Agent Walker, and God bless."

"I'll see you later, Father Mike," she replied, as he walked out the door.

* * *

**September 9****th**

Chuck knew he should never have told Ellie that Sarah's old priest was in town. Armed with that knowledge, she had insisted that he go talk to Father O'Halloran before popping the question to Sarah.

"I already got her father's permission!" he protested. "Now I have to go talk to her priest as well?"

"Absolutely," Ellie replied firmly.

"But it's been six WEEKS since I made the decision to ask her!" Chuck whined. "I've got the ring, I've got her father's permission… I've just been waiting for the perfect moment!"

But, as per the usual for arguments with Ellie, he had lost. And now, he was sitting outside of Father Mike's office, waiting to speak with him.

Finally, the door opened, and O'Halloran poked his head out. Chuck jumped to his feet.

"Ah, good mornin', Mr. Bartowski. May the peace of the good Lord be with ye."

Despite his lack of observance for so many years, the reply was automatic. "And also with you," he said, not even thinking about it.

"There, ye see," Father O'Halloran said, "the Lutherans did get a thing or two right, now didn't they?"

He nodded his head toward his office. "Come on in."

Chuck followed O'Halloran into his office, waited until the priest had seated himself behind the desk, and then sat in front of the desk.

"Now, Mr. Bartowski," O'Halloran began, "before you get to what you wanted to talk to me about, I wanted to ask ye about somethin'. I've heard these rumors that ye have the entire Intersect database in yer head, and can access it based on visual stimuli. Is this true?"

Chuck's eyes widened. "I'm not… I don't think I can…"

"Don't worry, Mr. Bartowski, I'm cleared higher than anybody else in th' agency save for Director Graham himself. And ye better believe that if I'm supposed to be overseein' Agent Walker, I'm gonna know what her assignment is all about."

Chuck nodded, and swallowed hard. "I understand, sir, but with respect, I don't feel comfortable revealing any information about that topic without the say-so of Sarah or Director Graham."

O'Halloran looked at him for a moment, and steepled his fingers. "A good answer, Mr. Bartowski, and a proper one as well. Ye certainly have the mental acuity of a good field agent."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, moving on," O'Halloran continued. "What was it that ye so desperately needed to speak with me about?"

_Best to just get it over with_, Chuck thought. "Sir, it is my intention to ask Sarah for her hand in marriage."

"Is that so," O'Halloran said softly. "Let me ask ye a few things, Mr. Bartowski. First of all, do ye really and truly love her, more than anybody else in the world?"

"Of course."

"And would ye sacrifice yer life for her?"

That was something Chuck hadn't thought of before, but the answer was automatic. "In a heartbeat."

"Have ye her father's permission? And I'll know if yer lyin', because I've known her father since she was naught but a gleam in his eye."

"Yes, sir, I do."

"And what might his name be, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Sergeant Major Marcus Lind Reynolds, sir."

O'Halloran was quiet. "Well done, Mr. Bartowski."

Then his eyes narrowed. "So if ye know his name… then ye know her real name as well, if I'm correct?"

"Yes sir," Chuck replied. "I've known her real name for over six months."

"Then why do ye insist on callin' her Sarah Walker?"

Chuck was quiet for a moment, forming his thoughts. "Because that's how I know her, sir. She's been Sarah Walker since the day I met her. Sarah Walker is the person I fell in love with, and Sarah Walker is the person who fell in love with me. She hasn't been Elizabeth Reynolds for years, sir, and that's not the person she wants me to know her as.

"She wants me to know her as Sarah Walker."

O'Halloran leaned back in his chair and didn't speak for a very long moment.

He studied Chuck, his gaze making Chuck feel almost uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke.

"Well, then, Mr. Bartowski, it does seem that ye have all yer ducks in a row here. Now, mind ye, I can't give my official blessing, because unless yer plannin' to join th' Holy Church, I cannot perform th' ceremony in th' Church in my official capacity as a priest.

"However. I definitely am happy to bestow upon ye my personal blessing, as a friend of Agent Walker's and of her family, and I'd be more than willing to perform a civil ceremony at a non-church facility."

Chuck smiled. "Well, sir, that's what I needed to hear."

O'Halloran rose, and Chuck stood as well. "Mr. Bartowski, best of luck to ye, and hopefully congratulations will be in order very soon."

"I'll let you know, sir."

* * *

**September 25****th**

Chuck was nervous as hell.

He'd spent all day at work trying to calm his nerves. He was trying to not think about it, because the more he thought about it, the more nervous he got.

But there was no getting around it – today was the day.

One year from the day he had first met Sarah. One year from the day Morgan had called her "Vicki Vale," and he'd made an ass of himself right in front of her.

Everybody knew that today was the day, too. He'd been getting wishes of good luck all day from his co-workers – from Morgan, Jeff, Lester, Anna, Big Mike, even Casey had said, "Good luck, Bartowski – don't screw it up."

As he was leaving the Buy More, Chuck contemplated going over to the Wienerlicious to say "Hi" to Sarah, but decided against it, not needing something more added to his nervous condition.

Such was said nervous condition that he failed to check behind him as he was backing the Herder out of its parking spot, and he managed to back right into a Toyota Corolla that was passing behind him.

But it only got worse. "Well, Chuck," Lou said as she got out of her car to inspect the damage, "that is why you're supposed to check your rear view mirror when you're backing up."

Chuck sighed and rested his head on the top of the Herder. "I'm sorry," he said, as everything spilled out of him like word vomit. "I'm just – my nerves are all shot to hell – I'm gonna – I'm asking Sarah to – to marry me tonight."

"No shit," Lou breathed. She walked over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck, Chuck," she said. "And don't worry about the car. I'll just tell my insurance company that somebody hit it while it was parked."

He lifted his head. "Hey, thanks, Lou," he said. "I really appreciate that."

"Not a problem," she replied. "You've got more important things to deal with. But if you do it again, I'll have somebody break your kneecaps for you."

Chuck laughed and nodded as she got back in her car. She drove off, and he got back in the Herder, making damn sure to check his rear view mirror this time.

* * *

Two hours later, Chuck was back in the Herder, headed toward downtown to pick Sarah up. Devin had offered the Awesome Mobile, but Chuck had thanked him and turned him down.

"I'm trying to make tonight as much like our very first date – and I'm talking about the very first time we went out – as possible," he had explained.

Minus the chaos and mayhem that had ensued that first night, of course. Chuck had called Casey and warned him that if he showed up with guns and a Suburban, they would be having words. Casey had laughed and said he had better things to do that night.

Chuck picked Sarah up right at 7:30. The first place they went was to the Mexican restaurant where Chuck had managed to gracefully skate around Sarah's admission of relationship baggage by offering to be her "baggage handler". Chuck had thought about doing it here, but had realized that this was where she had first clued him in to the fact that she had been in a relationship with Bryce, and he'd decided that that would just be a little awkward.

She hadn't said anything to indicate that she realized that this was practically a duplicate of their first "date", even when they walked into the same club they had gone to after dinner – the one where Sarah had managed to disable an entire NSA strike team. However, as they were leaving the club, she looked at him, and asked, "So, do I get to drive the Herder now?"

"I'm sorry?"

She smiled at him, and like she had so many times, reached up and brushed an errant bang off his forehead. "Come on, Chuck, it's been a year since the day we met. We've gone to exactly the same places we did that first night, and so now, if I'm not mistaken, I get to drive the Herder."

"No you don't," Chuck replied, "because there isn't an insane NSA agent with a strike team bearing down on us in a Sub… ur…"

His voice drifted off as he heard the roar of a V8 engine, and then saw a black Suburban come fishtailing around the corner. "Son of a BITCH!" he shouted. Without even thinking about it, he tossed Sarah the keys, and dove into the passenger seat.

She was about to wrench open the door of the Herder and jump in herself, when lights and sirens went on on the Suburban, and it went blasting past them. As it turned the corner, Chuck's phone rang.

Casey.

He answered. "WHAT?!"

Casey could barely contain his laughter. "I… I'm sorry," he chortled into Chuck's ear. "I just couldn't resist."

Chuck looked out at Sarah, and saw that she had an amused expression on her face as well. She reached in and took the phone out of Chuck's hand.

"Casey," she said sweetly. "You're a dead man."

She hung up the phone, and gave it back to Chuck. "You can drive."

Half an hour later, they were at Santa Monica Beach, strolling barefoot through the sand. They were far enough north of the pier that they couldn't really hear much noise from it.

The gentle noise of the tide lapping against the beach worked to partially soothe Chuck's nerves, and the dim light of the waning moon overhead served perfectly to set the mood. Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist as they slowly walked north toward the Santa Monica Mountains.

"This is where that night ended, isn't it?" Sarah said softly. "After the stand-off on the helipad, and the bomb at the hotel, you came out here, and this is where I found you the next morning."

"Yeah," Chuck breathed, as he reached in his left pocket to retrieve the ring. "But you could also say that this is where it all begins."

Sarah stopped and looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

At this point, Chuck's stomach started doing repeated backflips, and his heart felt like it was lodged in his throat. He removed his arm from Sarah's shoulders and turned to face her.

"I mean just what I said," he whispered. "This, right here, this is where… where our life begins."

Sarah's eyes went wide as she began to grasp what Chuck was saying, and then a small gasp escaped from her mouth as he slowly dropped to one knee.

He took both of her hands in his. "Sarah Walker," he began. "If you had told me a year ago that I would be here, tonight, doing this, I would've said that you were crazy.

"Six months ago, I might've believed it could happen, but I still would've had a hard time processing it. But right here, right now, I have come to the realization that there is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my crazy life with you, doing outrageous spy stuff, going to Comic-Con, trying to not be walked in on by Morgan…"

Sarah laughed through the tears that had begun to gently trickle down her face. "So, Sarah, I suppose I should get around to asking the question… how would you feel about being Mrs. Bartowski?"

She nodded and laughed again. "I think that I would like that a lot, but I also think you need to be a little more specific here."

Chuck laughed too. "Fair enough." He paused, let go of her hands, and switched the ring from his left hand to his right. Taking her left hand in his, he slid the ring onto her left ring finger. "Sarah Walker… will you marry me?"

She looked down at the ring, then looked back at him for a moment, eyes shining with tears, the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face, a few strands of blonde hair blown across her face by the offshore breeze…

"Yes."


	12. Chuck vs Till Death Do Us Part

**_Author's Note:_**_ I didn't like the way this chapter was, specifically the wedding itself, and given that that is the cornerstone of the chapter, a re-write was in order. I like the chapter much better now._

* * *

**Sarah Elisabeth Walker**

**and Charles Irving Bartowski**

**request the pleasure of your company**

**in celebrating their union in marriage**

**Saturday, the seventh of March**

**two thousand and nine**

**two o'clock in the afternoon**

**Griffith**** Observatory**

**Hollywood****, California**

* * *

Sarah realized pretty quickly where they were. "This is where that night ended, isn't it?" she asked Chuck. "After the stand-off on the helipad, and the bomb at the hotel, you came out here, and this is where I found you the next morning." 

She looked over, and realized Chuck was digging around in his pocket for something. He looked over at her and said, "Yeah, but you could also say that this is where it all begins."

Sarah was confused. "What do you mean?" she asked, coming to a stop.

Chuck's arm slipped off of her shoulders. She saw him swallow hard as he turned and stood in front of her. The words he said, though, hit her with the force of a freight train.

His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke. "I mean just what I said. This, right here, this is where… where our life begins."

Sarah could feel her breathing quicken as her eyes went wide. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her head, and a gasp involuntarily escaped from her mouth as Chuck lowered himself onto his right knee.

He took both of her hands in his. "Sarah Walker, if you had told me a year ago that I would be here, tonight, doing this, I would've said that you were crazy."

_I would've said that I was crazy, too_, she thought.

"Six months ago, I might've believed it could happen, but I still would've had a hard time processing it."

Tears began to build in her eyes. _Leave it to Chuck to think about processing this._

"But right here, right now, I have come to the realization that there is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my crazy life with you…"

_Me, too._

"… doing outrageous spy stuff, going to Comic-Con, trying to not be walked in on by Morgan…"

As the tears began to slowly trickle down her face, she laughed in spite of herself. But Chuck wasn't done yet.

"So, Sarah, I suppose I should get around to asking the question… how would you feel about being Mrs. Bartowski?"

_Took you long enough_.

"I think that I would like that a lot," she said with a laugh, nodding, and making more tears drip down her cheeks. "But I also think you need to be a little more specific here."

"Fair enough," Chuck replied, the laugh that she had grown to love coming out of his mouth. He let go of her hands for a moment, moved something from left hand to right, then took Sarah's left hand in his own. With his right hand, he slid a ring onto her left ring finger. "Sarah Walker… will you marry me?"

Sarah looked down at her ring – a small silver band, with a single diamond mounted on the middle. Simple, elegant, understated – very Chuck.

She looked back up at him. Sarah could tell that she had a smile on her face larger than any smile she'd had in years. The wind had whipped a few strands of hair onto her face that had gotten stuck to the wetness from the tears, but she didn't care about that right at the moment.

"Yes."

The smile on Chuck's face threatened to split his skull in two as he jumped up, wrapped his arms around Sarah's waist, and literally picked her up, spinning around in a circle. When he dropped her back down to the sand, he moved his hands up to her shoulders, pulled her tight against him, and kissed her hungrily.

But here's the thing about a kiss like that, with emotions running that high. It generally doesn't stay just a kiss for long. In fact, before too much longer, Sarah was hoping and praying that the Santa Monica Police Department didn't have a regular beach patrol…

* * *

Chuck and Sarah finally returned to Sarah's room just after two in the morning. They desperately wanted to spend the night together, but it was likely that there would be very little sleep gotten, as high as their emotions were running, and they both had to work opening shifts the following morning. So, with a reluctant farewell, they bid each other good night. 

When Chuck got home, Ellie and Devin were waiting up for him. They wanted a full report on the evening. They got one, too – or at least, the edited version. Chuck figured there were some details that they really, REALLY didn't need to know, although it was clear from the looks on his sister and brother-in-law-to-be's faces that he wasn't fooling anybody.

That weekend, Sarah was essentially summoned to the apartment, where Ellie informed her that if she didn't have any objections or anybody else in mind, she'd like to plan the wedding.

"I'm assuming you're not planning on getting married in the three months between now and my wedding?" Ellie asked.

"No, of course not!" Sarah replied. "We don't even have a date yet."

With that, Ellie's eyes had narrowed, and she picked up her phone, calling her younger brother.

"Chuck!" she snapped when he answered. "You propose to this woman, and then you don't set a date?"

Sarah could hear his muffled protests over the phone, and did her best not to smile, knowing the uncomfortable position he had to be in. After a moment, Ellie put her hand over the end of the phone and looked at Sarah.

"How's March 7th?" she asked.

Sarah shrugged. "Fine with me. Although, tell him that if he gets to pick the date, I want to pick the location."

Ellie relayed this information to Chuck, who seemed to be okay with it. Ellie hung up the phone.

"Okay," she said. "So did you have a location in mind?"

"Actually, I do," Sarah replied. "The first weekend I was in Los Angeles, I went up to Griffith Observatory, and fell in love with it. If it's available, I really want the ceremony to be there."

Ellie nodded, and picked up the phone again. Ten minutes later, Griffith Observatory was booked on Saturday, March 7th, 2009, for the Walker-Bartowski wedding.

A week later, Sarah and Chuck had gone to pick out invitations. Realizing that she really had to have a middle name for the invitations, she made one up on the spot – Elisabeth, "with an 's'," she made sure to say.

Chuck liked it. "Clever combination of 'Elizabeth' and 'Lisa'," he remarked.

"Well, I thought it worked," Sarah said.

The months flew by. Chuck and Sarah decided to just have one attendant each, mostly because Sarah had hardly any female friends who she could actually invite to the wedding. Chuck, of course, asked Morgan to be his best man.

Sarah's choice was taken by surprise when she was asked. Ellie had certainly not expected Sarah to ask her to be her maid of honor – "or rather, matron of honor, as I'll be at that point" – but she accepted quite readily, telling Sarah how honored she felt to be asked.

Ellie and Devin's wedding came and went at the end of December. It was a beautiful affair, at Balboa Park in San Diego, and then, they were off for ten days in Italy.

When they came back, Ellie turned into a wedding planning machine. If she wasn't at work, she was working out some detail of the wedding. Much of the time, Sarah was there helping her, and occasionally, Chuck would join in, although he found that most of the time he was more a hindrance than a help.

Sarah went on fewer and fewer missions with Chuck and Casey, and finally, in February, the CIA brass made a decision. Due to Sarah's situation, it was decided that it would be better to put her in an analysis position, working out of the federal building in downtown Los Angeles, and move Father Mike O'Halloran into Chuck's CIA controller position. Though Sarah was a little disappointed, she understood the reasoning.

Every so often, though, she was needed to go on a mission with what Morgan had once called (and been told never to call again) the Scooby Gang. However, Casey and Father O'Halloran always departed the car with the same instructions to her that they gave to Chuck – "STAY IN THE CAR."

Since this meant that she was alone in the car with Chuck for indeterminate periods of time, she was more than happy to comply.

Chuck had eventually gotten in contact with Bryce, and hard as it was for him, had to tell him that he wasn't going to be able to invite him to the wedding. Bryce was extremely disappointed, but Chuck told him – and the CIA had told Chuck – that too many people who knew Chuck thought that Bryce was dead, and having him show up at the wedding would just raise WAY too many questions.

Finally, the countdown was almost over. It was the night before – March 6th. The rehearsal had been finished, and they were now being served a rather incredible rehearsal dinner in the hall of Our Lady of the Angels Cathedral, courtesy Father Mike O'Halloran.

Toward the end of dinner, Chuck asked Sarah if he could talk to her outside. She readily complied.

"Listen," he said. "After we leave here tonight, we're not going to see each other again until the ceremony, and there was a question I needed to ask you before then."

_Oh no_, she thought, her stomach sinking. But it wasn't what she expected.

He took a deep breath. "Just after I met you, I flashed on a ring you were wearing. I had a flash of you beating up and then shooting several men, followed by shooting out the video camera."

Sarah's eyes went wide and her stomach tied itself in a knot as she realized exactly what he was talking about.

"All I need to know is that those guys were the bad guys. That's all you need to say, and I'll never ask about it again."

She took a deep breath. "Those men you saw," she began, "were members of a sleeper cell of an extremist faction of the Irish Republican Army. They were plotting to assassinate Martin McGuinness and completely throw the power-sharing agreement and the peace process in Northern Ireland off track.

"Obviously, this was not in the best interests of the United States, so a small team was sent in to take care of them."

Sarah paused, the memory clearly not pleasant. "One of the men I had to shoot was Father Mike's younger brother."

Chuck's eyes widened, and he blew out his breath slowly. "Wow," he murmured.

He didn't say anything else, but rather just stepped forward and embraced Sarah. She was glad that's what he did, because she didn't really trust her voice any more at this point.

* * *

Saturday, March 7th, 2009, dawned bright in Los Angeles, with nary a cloud in the sky. Sarah found herself up at Griffith Park early, wandering through the odd tract of wilderness in the center of this huge city, slowly meandering toward the Observatory. 

When she reached the lawn out front of the Observatory, she saw a rather striking brunette woman sitting on a bench on the path that bisected the lawn.

"Hi!" she called, approaching the woman.

"Hello," the woman replied, standing. "Are you here for the Walker-Bartowski wedding?"

Sarah smiled. "I'm actually the Walker half of it."

"Oh, okay!" the woman exclaimed. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jill Tanner."

_JILL_.

Sarah's smile suddenly lost a little bit of its genuineness, but she made an effort to keep up a polite front. "I've heard some about you."

"Well, I was Chuck's first serious girlfriend," Jill replied, her face also seeming to take on a bit of a hardness.

"I guess I was just a little more serious." _Bitch._

"Yes, but I hear that's not all we have in common – I understand that you dated Bryce Larkin after I did?" _Whore._

"I did, but I'm glad that that ended." _Neenerneenerneener_.

"Well, Chuck's a great guy," Jill said.

Sarah didn't say what she was thinking, which was, _And you're an idiot for not holding on to him_, but rather, just said, "I know," with only a trace of smugness.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then, Jill said, "Nice to meet you," stuck out her hand, shook Sarah's, and walked away.

_Hah. I win!_

* * *

The following five hours were gone seemingly in the blink of an eye. Sarah got her hair done, her makeup done, and got her dress on. The dress was simple – a flowing, lightweight calf-length white dress with a very faint pink tint, no sleeves – perfect for an outdoor wedding in the spring. Ellie's dress was similar, except it had a very faint yellow tint to it as opposed to the pink tint. The photographer came and took pictures of Sarah, then of Sarah and Ellie, and then moved on to the men. 

And now it was 2:02 P.M. Sarah was just inside the doors of the observatory, waiting to go out onto the lawn. She couldn't stop playing with her bouquet – a mix of tulips and daisies, which for some reason, had suddenly fascinated her. A string quartet that was apparently made up of Ellie and Devin's co-workers was playing some piece of music that Sarah thought was familiar, but couldn't place.

"What is this song?" she muttered.

"It's Johann Pachelbel's Canon in D," she heard from behind her. She turned to see a middle-aged woman standing behind her.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said, a look of puzzlement crossing her face. "Have we met?"

"No," the woman replied, just as the music changed to Wagner's "Bridal Chorus".

"But I'm pretty sure you're about to go get married to my son."

Sarah's eyes widened in shock, but the woman put her hand on Sarah's back and nudged her out.

And so, Sarah processed down the aisle, as everybody stood, in for another shock as she approached the front of the lawn.

There, sitting in the front row, was her father, in full Army dress uniform. She looked at him, then looked at Chuck, who pointed to the end of the row. General Beckman was sitting there.

She smiled as she realized the work that must have gone into getting him there, and then, she looked back toward Chuck. He stood at the end of the lawn, dressed in an open-collared light blue dress shirt and khaki pants – not traditional wedding attire, but there wasn't much traditional about this wedding. Morgan was dressed almost identically, except his shirt was a darker shade of blue.

When she got to Chuck, Sarah wanted to tell him that his mother was there, but there just wasn't time, because as soon as she reached the front, Father O'Halloran started talking – his Irish accent coming out to play in a serious fashion.

"Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today t' join together this man and woman in marriage, which is commended t' be honorable among all men; and therefore, is not by any, t' be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and solemnly. Into this estate, these two persons present now come to be judged. Should any person be able to show just cause why these two may not be joined together, let them speak now, or forever shall ye hold yer peace."

There was nothing, although Casey did have a bit of a smirk on his face for a moment.

"Marriage is the union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind. 'Tis intended for their mutual joy, and for th' help and comfort given one another both in prosperity and adversity. But more importantly, 'tis a means through which a stable and loving environment may be attained.

"Through marriage, Charles Irving Bartowski and Sarah Elisabeth Walker make a commitment together t' face their disappointments, embrace their dreams, realize their hopes, and accept each other's failures. Chuck and Sarah will promise one another t' aspire t' these ideals throughout their lives together, through mutual understandin', openness, and sensitivity to one another."

Sarah's father sort of winced at the mention of her cover name, but quickly recovered.

"We are here today to witness the joining in marriage of Chuck and Sarah. This occasion marks the celebration of love and commitment with which this man and this woman begin their lives together.

"Who gives this bonnie lass in marriage to this man?"

Sarah's father stood in the front row. "I, her father, give… Sarah… on behalf of her family and friends."

He stepped forward a little, and Sarah stepped toward him. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered, wrapping him in a hug and kissing him on the cheek.

When she pulled back, he had a smile on his face, and tears in his eyes. "I love you too, my little Beth," he whispered.

Chuck had stepped toward Mr. Reynolds as well, and shook his hand. "Thank you, sir."

Taking Sarah by the hand, he led her back to where Father O'Halloran stood, and Sarah's father returned to his seat.

"This is a beginnin' and a continuation of their growth as individuals. With mutual care, respect, responsibility and knowledge comes th' affirmation of each one's own life happiness, growth and freedom. With respect for individual boundaries comes the freedom to love unconditionally. Within the emotional safety of a loving relationship – the knowledge self-offered one another becomes the fertile soil for continued growth. With care and responsibility towards self and one another comes the potential for full and happy lives.

"By gatherin' together all the wishes of happiness and our fondest hopes for Chuck and Sarah from all present here, we assure them that our hearts are in tune with theirs."

Father O'Halloran paused. "It's a bit warm out today for me t' be goin' on like I've kissed the blarney, and bein' that we're not in a church, I do believe I'll be skippin' over some of the yada-yada and hullabaloo – that is, if it be alright with the two of ye."

The audience laughed, while Chuck and Sarah looked at each other. She nodded slightly, and he looked at Father O'Halloran, nodding to him.

"Good lad, Charles," Father O'Halloran replied. "Now, I've been led to understand that ye and Sarah have written yer own vows?"

Chuck's eyes went wide. "We have?!"

"Just kiddin', Chuck," the Irish priest said. "But seriously…

"Do ye, Charles Irving Bartowski, take Sarah Elisabeth Walker t' be your wife? Do ye promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better or worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and be devoted to, forsakin' all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

Chuck was practically bouncing up and down. "I do."

Mike O'Halloran turned to Sarah and asked her essentially the same set of questions. When he finished, she smiled, and said, "I do."

O'Halloran had insisted on taking the rings from Chuck beforehand, because he didn't trust Morgan not to lose them. So now, he pulled them from his jacket pocket, and said, "With these rings, ye show t' each other yer pledge of unity, yer vow t' be one with each other, and t' have and t' hold each other for the remainder of yer lives."

He handed a ring to Chuck, and said, "Place this on Sarah's finger, and as ye do so, say, "Sarah Walker, with this ring, I pledge my love t' ye, as a symbol of our unity. Ye shall be my wife from this day for'ard."

Chuck gently slipped the engagement ring off of Sarah's hand, slipped the wedding ring on as he said the words, and then slipped the engagement ring back on behind it. Then, O'Halloran handed the other ring to Sarah, and had her say similar words to Chuck as she placed the ring on his hand.

"Well then, folks, 'tis the ball game!" O'Halloran said, drawing a round of laughter. "Sarah and Chuck have consented together in marriage before this company of friends and family. They have declared their unity by giving and receiving a ring, and they are now joined.

"Therefore, by the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce ye husband and wife! Mr. Bartowski… knock yerself out."

Chuck smiled, and kissed Sarah, to a round of thunderous applause.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski!"

Mendelssohn's "Wedding March" began to play, and Chuck and Sarah swept quickly toward the Observatory building itself, where the reception was to be held. As they went through the door, Chuck heard somebody say his name.

He turned – "Mom!"

The older woman approached him and embraced him. "I'm so proud of you, Chuck!"

Chuck practically froze in shock. Finally, he hugged his mother back, and then, backed up a little. "Uh… have you met Sarah?"

She nodded. "We met, right before the ceremony."

"How did you know, Mom? I mean… we didn't send you an invitation… we didn't even know where to send one to!"

Mrs. Bartowski smiled sadly at her son. "You're my little boy," she replied. "Mothers find out about these things."

Chuck, still in a little bit of shock, asked her, "How long are you here for? Can you stay for the reception?"

"I don't think I can, Chuck."

"Mom, I know Ellie would really want to see you."

She slowly shook her head. "I really don't think it's a good idea for me to talk to your sister right now. I think she just still hurts too much, especially since I wasn't at her wedding."

She paused. "But I just had to see my little boy get married."

She reached up and pinched Chuck's cheek. "I love you, Chuck. Don't ever forget that. And tell Ellie… tell her that I love her. Please."

He smiled, a tear slipping down his face. "I will. I love you too, Mom."

And with that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the corridors of Griffith Observatory.

Chuck turned back to Sarah, who wordlessly embraced him. After a moment, she loosened her grip.

"I love you… Mr. Bartowski."

He pulled back a little and smiled. "I love you too… Mrs. Bartowski."

* * *

The reception was in full swing. Toasts had been made – Devin's was particularly "awesome" – and wineglasses had been repeatedly "dinged" with spoons to get the bride and groom to kiss. Needless to say, the bride and groom weren't complaining.

About an hour in, Chuck grew a worried expression on his face, and his eyes went wide. Mistaking it for a flash, Sarah leaned in. "What is it? What did you see?"

He pointed. "I saw a Buy More salesman and an NSA agent with a guitar going to the microphones."

Sarah turned and looked. "Oh dear God."

Chuck leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Come on, what's the worst thing they can sing? 'The Hero of Canton'?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Please, dear God, no."

"Excuse me," Morgan said into the microphone. "Excuse me, yeah. Um, my name is Morgan Grimes – I was the best man – and this is John Casey, Chuck's next-door…"

He paused. "Wait a second. Chuck, have you figured out where you're going to live yet?"

Chuck's eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. He turned and looked at Sarah. "How the hell did we forget about that?!" he hissed.

She smiled back at him and shook her head. "Don't worry," she whispered. "My bed's big enough for the both of us. Although it's not big enough for us to wear clothes if we're both in it." A naughty grin flashed across her face.

Chuck's eyebrows shot up. "Patience, Sarah. Patience."

He turned back toward Morgan. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Okay. Well, John Casey WAS Chuck's next-door neighbor. Anyway, Chuck, Sarah, we know that from time to time, life might be a little more than you bargained for, so we just wanted to sing you this little song that will hopefully get you through the tough times."

Casey strummed an A major 7 chord on his guitar, and Morgan hummed his pitch, then sang…

_"Some things in life are really bad… they can make you really mad… other things just make you swear and curse."_

Casey spoke the next line.

_"When you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble – give a whistle!"_

Morgan whistled, and then he and Casey sang the last line of the verse in a harmony that sounded surprisingly good:

_"And this'll help things turn out for the best."_

Chuck, finally realizing what song they were singing, clapped his hands to his head. "Oh, dear God."

_"Always look on the bright side of life!"_

As Casey whistled, Sarah's eyebrows shot up, and she couldn't help it, she just started laughing.

_"Always look on the bright side of life!"_

Then, totally unexpectedly, Devin jumped up.

_ "If life seems jolly rotten, there's something you've forgotten, and that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing."_

"Since when can HE sing?" Chuck muttered.

But it got better, because Father Michael O'Halloran got in on the act.

_"When yer feelin' in the dumps, well, don't be silly chumps, just purse yer lips and whistle – aye, that's th' thing!"_

And the four men began to sing, in four part harmony…

_"Always look on the bright side of life!"_

Sarah leaned over and kissed Chuck as he slumped in his chair.

_"Always look on the light side of life!"_

"When the hell did my life turn into a musical?"

Morgan took back over, heading into the third verse.

_"For life is quite absurd, and death's the final word, you must always face the curtain with a bow."_

"Chuck," Sarah whispered, "this song is hilarious. How is it that I've never heard it before?"

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never heard of Monty Python."

"Who?"

Chuck sighed. One more deficiency to be remedied.

_"Forget about your sin – give the audience a grin! Enjoy it, it's your last chance anyhow!_

_"SO always look on the bright side of death! Just before you take your terminal breath!"_

Chuck shook his head. "That's it."

He stood up, just as Morgan was about to dive into verse four. "Alright, guys, hold it right there."

Morgan stopped, with a hurt look on his face. "But… Chuck, dude, we thought this was funny, and quite honestly, it seems like everybody else – including your bride – thought so too."

Chuck put his hands on his hips. "Yeah, well, Morgan, let me tell you something.

"Life… it's a piece of shit. Well, when you look at it."

Then, to the delight of the crowd and Sarah's utter amazement, Chuck himself started singing. _"Life's a laugh, and death's a joke, it's true!"_

"Yeah, buddy!" Morgan exclaimed, as Casey picked back up with the guitar. _"You'll see it's all a show, keep 'em laughing as you go!"_

Chuck joined him for the last line of the verse. _"Just remember that the last laugh, it's on you!"_

"EVERYBODY!" Casey shouted

_"AND… always look on the bright side of life! Always look on the light side of life!"_

Those lines were sung about four more times, as Chuck made his way back to his seat. When he sat down, Sarah looked at him, then leaned over, and whispered, "That kind of thing right there, that's why I married you."

"I thought you married me because you loved me!" he whispered back, pretending to be shocked.

"Well, that, too."

He took her face in his hands and whispered, "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

Sarah smiled, bright enough to light the city. "Yes, but I'll never get tired of hearing it."

_"So always look on the bright side of life! Always look on the bright… siiiide of LIFE!!!!!"_

**_The End. No, seriously. Stop it. There aren't going to be any more chapters._**

**_Probably. Maybe. Oh, shut up. _**


	13. Chuck vs the Honeymoon

_**Author's Note**: I have decided that it's in the best interest of my audience for me to put a "MATURE CONTENT" warning on this chapter. There's nothing explicit, nothing even really that bad - there's just a lot of raunchy humor, and it's pretty clear EXACTLY what transpires at certain points._

_That said, read on with discretion, and enjoy! _

* * *

At 4:30 AM on Sunday, March 8th, 2009, the phone in the Marilyn Monroe Suite of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel rang, dragging both occupants from a far-too-short night of sleep.

"Phone's on your side," she grumbled.

"No, too early," he muttered back.

She sighed, and rolled over on top of him, reaching across his body to grab the phone. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Bartowski. This is your 4:30 AM wake-up call."

Sarah smiled. She definitely liked being called that. "Thank you."

She replaced the phone on its base, turned the lamp on to low, and ran her fingers through Chuck's hair. The dim light reflected off the narrow gold band on her left ring finger as she did so.

"4:30, Chuck." she said, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"Uh-uh," he grumbled. "Alarm clock says it's only 3:30."

"Daylight Savings Time starts today, sweetheart. It's time to get up, Chuck."

He smiled sleepily. "Well, THAT shouldn't be a problem, as long as you keep laying on top of me like that."

"That is NOT what I'm referring to, Mr. Bartowski," she replied, swatting his shoulder playfully.

"Oh, alright, Mrs. Bartowski," Chuck grumbled as Sarah rolled off of him.

As Sarah headed into the bathroom, Chuck shot a look of admiration at her naked form. "Better lock that door, or I might be joining you in the shower."

She turned and smiled at him sweetly. "Then I will DEFINITELY be locking the door, because we SO do not have time for you to join me in the shower."

And yet, somehow, five minutes later, Chuck had sweet-talked his way through the bathroom door, and joined Sarah in the shower.

So it was that at 5:15, they were running through the hotel like chickens with their heads cut off. "I TOLD you that was a bad idea!" Sarah snapped.

"Oh, but you enjoyed it!"

The car was waiting at the curb outside the Roosevelt, and as soon as the luggage was loaded and Chuck and Sarah were buckled into the back seat, the driver hit the gas, flipping a u-turn that took the big Lincoln across all four lanes of traffic on Hollywood Boulevard, and prompting honking horns and one-fingered salutes from a score of angry drivers.

Sarah's eyes were wide and she had a white-knuckle grip on Chuck's hand as the Lincoln slid into a left-hand turn onto La Brea. "I have been shot at, been nearly blown up, been chased halfway around the world by lunatic terrorists," she hissed into Chuck's ear, "and yet, nothing has ever quite so terrified me as a Los Angeles taxi driver with a deadline to meet. A deadline that he'd have a lot more time to meet if a certain individual with a bad case of morning happiness had refrained from joining me in the shower!"

Chuck looked at her, and managing to somehow keep a straight face, replied, "I simply went in there to get cleaned up. You're the one who bent over and said, 'Take me, big boy!'"

And with that remark, their driver nearly drove up onto the sidewalk, but managed to recover and instead make it look like it was supposed to be a right turn onto Sunset. Sarah smacked Chuck on the back of the head and hissed, "Shut up before you get us killed!"

But when Chuck looked back at her with a "hurt puppy dog" face, she couldn't resist, and she started laughing. "Oh, stop it!"

Chuck's face changed from "hurt puppy dog" to a "charm your pants off" smile, and God knew, Sarah had fallen victim to that smile more than once. "Love you, babe," he said.

Finally relenting, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. "I love you too."

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up in front of Terminal 1 at LAX, no further incidents having happened to endanger their lives on the way. The driver jumped out, opened Sarah's door, and ran around back to unload the trunk. As Chuck pressed a fifty dollar bill into the driver's hand, the driver put his other hand on Chuck's lower arm, and with a heavy Armenian accent, said, "You are a very, very lucky man."

Chuck nodded. "I know."

Fortunately, at 5:45 on a Sunday morning, the US Airways check-in counters aren't very busy, so Sarah and Chuck got through and got their luggage checked by 6:00, and by 6:10, they were at their gate.

Sarah looked at the destination board. "Oh, Phoenix," she said dryly. "The romantic getaway hotspot of the southwest."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "We just have a layover at Sky Harbor," he explained. "As much as I would LOVE to go to the Valley of the Sun for our honeymoon, I chose someplace a little… nicer."

"Are you going to tell me where?"

He grinned. "If I wanted you to know where we were going, I would've given you your boarding pass for the second leg!"

* * *

The flight to Phoenix was just under an hour and a half long, putting them on the ground at 8:15. That gave them plenty of time to get to the gate for their next flight, which didn't leave until just before 10:00.

When they reached the gate, Sarah noticed something strange – there was no jetway. Chuck noticed it too, and then looked further out the window.

"Oh, HELL no," he uttered.

Sarah looked where Chuck was looking, and saw a dual-turboprop DeHavilland DHC-8 puddle-jumper pulling up to the gate. "Not a big fan of small aircraft, Chuck?" she asked, only a very slight mocking tone in her voice.

His face went pale as he explained. "I flew from San Diego to Bakersfield once, in one of these, when I was thirteen. There was a storm over the Grapevine. I thought we were gonna die."

"Well, Chuck," Sarah replied, as she took his hand in hers and gently stroked the back of it, "if you die on this flight, at least it'll be with me, right?"

Chuck looked down at her, a wan smile on his still somewhat pasty face. "I suppose that's true."

Sarah smiled back at him, then looked over at the destination board. "We're going to Durango?"

"Well, that's the last place we're flying to."

Her eyebrows went up. "The Durango-Silverton railroad?"

He cocked his head to the side. "I like your thinking… but no."

"Oh, come on, Chuck!"

Chuck shook his head, the sickly smile slowly changing to a smug grin. "What part of SURPRISE do you not understand?"

Sarah stood on her toes and got nose-to-nose with Chuck. "We may be married, but I still know a hundred ways to kill you."

Chuck stepped back from her, and plopped himself down in a seat behind him. "That may be, but you wouldn't."

"Oh? And why wouldn't I?'

His grin got even bigger, and even more smug – if that was possible. "The sex is too good."

Sarah turned bright red, and a woman sitting with a little girl who looked to be about ten years old, three chairs away from Chuck, gasped, got an indignant look on her face, and covered the little girl's ears with her hands.

"I am so sorry," Sarah muttered, then grabbed Chuck's hand, and dragged him back out of the gate area.

"What has gotten into you this morning?" she hissed at him as soon as they were out of earshot.

His smug grin disappeared, replaced by another look she was very familiar with – the "oh shit" look.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I just… I'm… I'm so excited about the fact that you're Mrs. Bartowski now that I just can't help myself."

Sarah's expression softened, a smile beginning to tug up at the corners of her lips. "Well, okay, I suppose that's a good excuse."

Chuck smiled. "And while I'm not sure what's gotten into me this morning, I'm pretty sure that I've gotten into you!"

"CHUCK!"

* * *

Chuck actually did okay on the flight from Phoenix to Durango. He had a white knuckle grip on the armrest for most of the way, and almost hyperventilated while the plane was on final approach to Durango, but the rest of the time, he merely had a death grip on Sarah's hand.

The plane landed in Durango just before noon, and once Chuck was able to breathe normally again, he headed directly to the Budget car rental counter. He got the keys, and they headed outside – where a silver Mustang convertible awaited them.

"Okay, so we're obviously going on at least a little bit of a roadtrip," Sarah said. "Otherwise you wouldn't have gotten a convertible."

Chuck nodded and smiled, but still wouldn't tell her where they were going. It wasn't till an hour and a half later, when they crossed the state line into Utah, and she saw a mileage sign, that she realized.

"We're going to Moab!" she exclaimed.

Then she thought about it for a moment. "That does seem a little weird, though… given our history with that particular town…"

"Oh, come on," Chuck replied. "Arches National Park and Canyonlands National Park are RIGHT THERE by Moab, and besides which, if it weren't for what happened in Moab, who knows if anything ever would've happened between you and me."

Sarah couldn't deny that, and she had to admit, the two national parks were pretty good justification for being there. She had never heard of any particularly nice hotels around the Moab area – and she'd been to the two parks a few times – so she was suitably impressed when Chuck pulled into a place called the River Canyon Lodge. She was even more impressed when the bellman took them to a suite that was, in its own way, even nicer than the one they'd been in the night before at the Roosevelt.

That evening – after sufficiently breaking in the bed, of course – they visited a place called the Moab Brewery for dinner. "Who knew they brewed so many different types of beer in such a small town?" Chuck asked, astonished.

A full rack of St. Louis ribs and accompanying sides later, they were both stuffed. As they were leaving the restaurant, though, Chuck turned right onto Highway 191, instead of left to go back to the hotel. "Where are you going, Chuck?" Sarah wanted to know.

"You'll see," he replied quietly.

Ten minutes later, he turned off of the 191 onto Mill Creek Dr. "Oh…" Sarah whispered, realizing immediately where he was going.

It was closed down. The building was boarded up, and eight foot tall, razor-wire topped cyclone fence surrounded the complex. The guard shack had never been repaired, the gates never replaced.

"I can't believe it's been over a year since I was in there," Chuck said, staring at the abandoned CIA facility. "There's some days… it seems like it was yesterday."

Sarah spoke quietly as she looked at the building. "I thought I had lost you," she said. "When I woke up with that hangover… and then Casey said you were missing… I knew almost immediately what had to have happened."

She shook her head. "And to this day, the only reason I can think of that they used Rohypnol to knock me out was to try to make everybody think that you had raped me and then run."

Sarah sighed, reliving in her head those four horrible days in March of 2008. "The thing is, when Devin saw my blood results, and saw Rohypnol, everybody knew it couldn't have been you. Ellie said there's no way you could have done it, and Casey said there's no way you would have known how."

Chuck smiled at that. "Casey just has no confidence in me whatsoever, does he?"

"Oh, he does, Chuck, believe me. He just has no confidence in your criminal ability, because he thinks you're too good a person to do anything like that."

She had moved closer to him while she was talking, and now she leaned into him, trying to get him to take the hint. Her signals finally getting through to him, he put his arm around her, and she snuggled up closer to him. "I knew it couldn't have been you, either, and I told them that. I told them… I told them that you wouldn't have needed it, not with me."

"Even back then, huh?" Chuck asked quietly.

"Chuck, when I kissed you at the San Pedro Docks, I had made a conscious choice that you as a person were more important to me than as an asset. Granted, there were a few things that threw me off track, but after Valentine's Day, all you would have had to do was ask."

He nodded. "Well, the way I look at it, I still got the best end of the deal anyway."

Sarah smiled. "You also seem to be learning how to say the right thing at the right times," she gently teased him. "Anyway, your sister still insisted on examining me, and I think they all let go a big sigh of relief when the rape examination was negative."

She looked up at Chuck – and realized that his face was wet with tears. "Chuck?" she asked concernedly, sitting up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's just… you thought you had lost me… but I almost DID lose you because of this place."

His hand had moved to her right shoulder, and was unconsciously tracing the scar that had been left when she was shot and subsequently operated on. "I don't think I could've gone on living if that had happened."

Sarah felt a lump growing in her throat. Despite the fact that they were married, hearing Chuck say that just confirmed again how lucky she was to have found him. She slipped an arm behind his back, and hugged him tightly.

"But I did live," she said softly, "and you went on living, and now, here we are, living our lives together."

Chuck smiled. "You're right. And this is depressing. Let's get the hell out of here."

Sarah sat back in her seat, and buckled her seatbelt. Chuck fired up the Mustang, put it in gear, and burned rubber out into the road, leaving the CIA facility behind them, and putting it permanently in their past - at least, that's what they thought.

* * *

The next two days, they did a lot of hiking – and they had a lot of sex. In the hotel, in the car, in Arches National Park – you name it, they did it.

The third morning they were there, Sarah woke up before Chuck. She tickled him awake, and then showed him what she had in mind for that moment just then.

"Noooo," Chuck groaned, pretending to be dying. "My batteries arrre… runnnnninnnng… loooooooow…"

"What happened to the guy who called himself the Energizer Bunny two days ago?" Sarah teased him.

"He turned into Bob Dole," Chuck grumbled.

Nonetheless, he was somehow able to rise to the occasion and start Sarah's day off right.

After their morning repast (and the encore performance in the shower, which Chuck was much more enthusiastic about), they headed out to Dead Horse Point State Park. Less a hiking park and more of an attraction, that was probably for the best, since both of them were a little bit worn out.

"That's a pretty spectacular view," Chuck commented, looking out from Dead Horse Point over the neighboring Canyonlands National Park.

"As spectacular as what you saw this morning?"

"Not quite," Chuck replied, "but close."

"Must be pretty spectacular."

"I'm glad you have such a high level of self-confidence."

Sarah smiled and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "I'm sure you are."

At that point, Chuck broke the mood as thoroughly as possible by announcing that he had to go to the bathroom. "You're a real romantic, Chuck," Sarah grumbled.

He had been in the restroom for maybe thirty seconds when he came back out, eyes wide.

"That was quick," Sarah said.

"No," Chuck replied. "Come here."

"Chuck, I would ordinarily love to, but not in – you're not joking."

Sarah jogged over to the restroom and followed him in. He pointed at a door that said "Out-of-Order".

"So? Public restrooms have out of order signs all the time."

"Do you notice that it smells terrible in here?" Chuck asked.

Sarah sighed. "Again, public restrooms tend to smell bad."

"Do out of order stalls also generally have somebody sitting in them?" Chuck said, pointing toward the floor.

Sarah craned her neck down and looked in – sure enough, there were a pair of shoes connected to a pair of legs in there.

"Shit," she whispered.

Reaching into her left hiking boot, she withdrew one of her throwing knives – "Yes, I'm going to take my weapons with me, even on our honeymoon," she had explained to Chuck – and slid it between the door of the stall and its support frame. Carefully, she slid the latch up, and let the door swing open.

"Oh God," Chuck exclaimed, and then turned around and vomited in the sink behind him.

Sarah held her hand over her nose and mouth as she looked closely. The man was dressed all in black, and had clearly been dead for several days. His body was beginning to decompose, and flies rested on several parts of him.

It was pretty clear what had killed him – the gaping gunshot wound in his forehead was evidence of that. Trying not to look, or touch his skin, Sarah gingerly reached in his pocket, and withdrew his wallet. She opened it to reveal an Arizona driver's license.

"Marion Wallace," she announced. "Who the hell did you piss off?"

She quickly vacated the restroom, handed the wallet to Chuck, and pulled out her phone. "I'm going to call the police," she said. No response from Chuck. "Chuck?"

Sarah turned around and looked at Chuck. He was holding the wallet in his right hand, open, his arm out stiff in front of him. His eyes were rolled back in his head.

Just as suddenly, though, he snapped out of the flash. "Marion Wallace," he said. "Big time drug kingpin on the Navajo reservation. Suspected of being in league with the Medellin cartel originally; now he brings in heroin that he gets from the Taliban."

Sarah's eyes widened. "A drug kingpin got offed in a Utah state park?" she said. "This seems like a very unlikely place to do it."

"No," Chuck breathed. "He had a whole distribution network that was based out of Moab. He was moving crystal meth, too, that he got from Cedar City."

Sarah put a hand to her forehead. "So he was moving meth for some drug cooker in Cedar City, and he was moving heroin for the Taliban."

She shook her head. "This was one stupid guy. He had to know that somebody was double dipping and take him down eventually."

"Do we call this in?" Chuck asked.

"Not a chance," Sarah replied. "It's like you said, he had a distribution network. If the CIA finds out that you're sitting right in the middle of it, you're gone – into their custody, no questions asked."

Chuck looked at her as if she'd just said the sky was green. "So what the hell do we do then?"

Sarah had already made up her mind. "We go talk to a Marine."

* * *

Gunnery Sergeant Mitchell Tucker, United States Marine Corps Reserves, had one of the most boring jobs in the world – manager of Grand County Airport, Moab, Utah.

There were perhaps twenty combined take-offs and landings per day at Grand County. There were never any security problems. There was never any excitement. Except for that one time a year before.

The time that that Learjet had landed here, and the two people onboard said that they had to go fight terrorists. He could still remember the name of the one man – John Casey, Major, United States Air Force. But he had never gotten the name of the woman…

The blonde woman who had just walked into his office.

"Holy shit!" he said, jumping to his feet. A taller man with curly brown hair entered the office behind the woman.

"Sarah Walk- uh, Bartowski," she said, extending her hand to him.

"Gunnery Sergeant Mitch Tucker, USMC," he replied. "I don't think we were ever properly introduced."

"We were… in a bit of a hurry," Sarah explained. "This is Chuck Bartowski. He's my husband, and in fact, is the individual who Major Casey and I came here to extract a year ago."

"No joke," Tucker replied. "Well, what can I do for you folks?"

Instead of answering him directly, Sarah had a question of her own. "How would you feel about a little bit of extra excitement in your life, Gunny Tucker?"

He nodded his head. "Things do get a little boring around here," he said. "I wouldn't mind a little something to do."

"Do you know who Marion Wallace is?" she asked.

"Drug trafficking scum mother fucker," Tucker grumbled. "Yeah, I know who that son of a bitch is. He tried to bring drugs in through this airport once. Came to me, offered to cut me in on it. I kicked his ass and dumped him on the property line."

"Gunny Tucker, he's got a distribution network here in town," Sarah said. "Weren't you concerned that they might come after you for that?"

Tucker fixed Sarah with a look. "Take a look at me, Mrs. Bartowski," he said. "I am a six-foot-six black man who weighs two hundred sixty pounds and almost always wears a USMC battle dress uniform. Do you think a bunch of scrawny little white and Navajo boys are gonna mess with me?"

"I sure as hell wouldn't," Chuck muttered.

"See, there's a white boy with some common sense," Tucker said. "And I tell you what, while those boys in Wallace's distribution network might be stupid, they aren't lacking for common sense. They know not to fuck with me, whether it's because of what I look like, or the fact that I'm a United States Marine."

"I… see," Sarah said slowly. "Well, here's the thing. Wallace is dead."

"Lord be praised."

"We also want to take down his distribution network."

"It's simple enough in theory," Tucker replied. "If you just wipe out his main storage center, that's pretty much the end of that. However, his storage center is pretty well secured, and that makes it kind of difficult."

"You know where it is, then?"

"Yeah, it's over at Mill Creek Drive and Murphy Lane."

_Mill Creek Drive and Murphy Lane. Why does that address sound so familiar?_

Sarah's thoughts were interrupted by Chuck. "Shit!" Chuck exclaimed. "That's the CIA facility!"

Her eyes went wide. "Oh my God."

Tucker's eyes narrowed, and his face hardened. "So now, I can't trust the Army OR the CIA?"

Sarah shrugged weakly.

* * *

Sarah was experiencing a distinct sense of déjà vu as she sat in Tucker's Jeep, across the road from the supposedly abandoned CIA facility, looking at the building through an infrared scope.

"See the people moving around inside?" Tucker asked. "I think they've got some sort of tunnel that comes in from about a quarter mile away."

"Unbelievable," Sarah said, shaking her head. "And you said that the distribution center moved in there six months ago?"

"That's correct," Tucker said. "That's when I came up with the plan to take it down."

"So, you have this plan, why haven't you done it yet?"

"I'm just one person," he explained. "But I put guns in the hands of two more people, and that gives me more than enough manpower to round up everybody inside, get them out, and then burn the place to the ground."

"Wait, wait," Chuck protested. "A gun in my hands?!"

Tucker turned around and fixed him with a glare. "Take this," he ordered, putting a compact machine pistol in Chuck's hands.

"What the hell is this?!"

"Heckler and Koch MP5," the Marine reservist explained. "Impossibly simple to use, and impossible to fire unless you actually mean to fire it."

Chuck nodded. "Huh, I think I can actually handle that."

"Good," Tucker replied, "because we about to invade this bitch."

"Oh God."

Sarah buckled herself in as Tucker fired up the Jeep. Popping it into first gear, he hit the gas, flying across the road. "Here we go again," she muttered.

The Jeep hit the fence at just over forty miles an hour, taking an entire section down. Tucker stomped on the brakes, and jumped out. Grabbing a long, thin tube from next to Chuck, he put it up on his shoulder, aimed it at the wall of the building, and pulled a trigger.

There was a tongue of flame, a _whoosh_ – and then a gigantic explosion blew a hole in the side of the building.

"LET'S GO!" Tucker bellowed. He ran toward the hole, Sarah and Chuck hot on his heels.

As they entered the building, Tucker shouted out instructions. "Mrs. Bartowski, you go left; Mr. Bartowski, you go right. Bring anybody you encounter out here at gunpoint. If they resist, shoot them."

Chuck didn't have to shoot anybody. All he encountered were a bunch of scared teenage boys who threw their hands in the air at the sight of his gun. It was pretty clear, however, from the sounds of the gunshots echoing throughout the building that Sarah and Tucker were having to shoot people, or at least, shoot at them.

Finally, they had rounded up all fourteen figures that Sarah had counted through the infrared scope. One of them had an ass full of lead because he had refused to surrender when Sarah told him to, but that was the least of his worries.

Chuck was restraining them all with plastic cuffs on both their wrists and ankles, while Sarah held them under her gun. Tucker, meanwhile, had gone back into the building with a five gallon gas can and a small box of Tide detergent.

He came back out five minutes later, both empty. "Alright!" he shouted. "This building is going to burn down while you watch, and about ten minutes after that, you better believe the police will be here."

Tucker gave them all his best Marine Corps drill sergeant stare. "You're a bunch of fucking idiots for trafficking drugs for that douchbag Wallace, and now you're gonna pay the price. Hopefully, a few years in jail will convince you of the error of your ways."

He got back into the Jeep, and Sarah and Chuck followed suit. "Peace, y'all," Tucker called as he started up the Jeep. Pulling a flash-bang grenade from his belt, he pulled the pin out with his teeth, and then, as he began to drive off, tossed the grenade through the hole in the wall of the building.

A few seconds later, there was a small explosion, followed by a much, much larger one as the Jeep pulled onto the road. "What the hell?!" Chuck exclaimed.

"Unleaded gasoline plus Tide detergent equals delightfully explosive homemade napalm," Tucker explained.

* * *

As Sarah and Chuck drove from the airport back to the hotel, Sarah's phone rang. When she answered it, "Walker," Chuck knew that it had to be official.

"Walker, you and your… husband… are in Moab, on your honeymoon, am I correct?" came the voice of Director Graham.

"Yes, sir, that's correct," Sarah replied.

"And would you happen to know why exactly a certain former interrogation facility that still happens to be property of the United States government is currently burning?"

"Uh, I really wouldn't know, sir," she said. "However, I imagine that if you investigate, you might discover that it was being used to stockpile large amounts of crystal meth and Afghani heroin."

Graham was silent for a moment. "Walker, you aren't paid to be a drug enforcement agent. In fact, you aren't even paid to be a field agent anymore. You're an analyst."

"Yes, sir, I'm aware," Sarah answered him. "That's why I leave things like this to the Marines."

Graham sighed. "Walker, I don't want to hear about anything else happening in Utah while you're there. Is that crystal clear?"

"Yes, sir."

She hung up the phone. "Director Graham?" Chuck asked.

"Yep."

"Doesn't sound like he was too happy."

"Nope."

"Sounds like he made you cranky."

"A bit."

Turned out that Chuck knew exactly how to make Sarah not cranky any longer. It really was for the best that their suite had very thick walls.

* * *

There was a limo waiting at the curb when they walked out of LAX, the chauffeur standing on the sidewalk with a placard that read, "BARTOWSKI."

As soon as they were in and the luggage was loaded, the chauffeur got in and closed the door. "So," he said, pulling away from the curb, "did you two hump like bunnies for the last week and a half, or what?"

Chuck let go an exasperated sigh. "Jesus Christ, Casey, is nothing sacred?"

"We've had this discussion," the NSA agent replied with a grin. "Just the Second Amendment.

"Anyway," he continued, "heard that a certain place that we busted a year ago happened to go boom in the night."

"It was being used for drug storage," Sarah replied. "We found the kingpin who ran it dead at a state park, and we really kind of wanted to keep it quiet, so we got Gunny Tucker to help us out."

"Good man," Casey said. "Good taste in guns."

"But that was just one night of our stay," Chuck interjected. "All the other nights, we –"

"Please," Casey stopped him, holding up a hand. "I really don't need you to describe."

"Well, if you'll excuse us, our honeymoon isn't quite over yet," Chuck said.

"What?"

Chuck hit the button to raise the privacy screen, causing Sarah to laugh in surprise. "Oh, no, no, for God's sake," Casey groaned.

The screen came to a stop against the ceiling of the car. Casey couldn't see anymore, but…

Yeah, that was definitely a giggle and a moan he had just heard.

"I hate this job."


End file.
